


So Let's Screw This One Up Right

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, FSA Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freshman year of college isn't easy. It's even less easy as a newly bitten werewolf who doesn't know a thing about the supernatural.</p><p>Luckily, that's what friends are for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the beginning of this fic a year ago as a [drabble](http://pocketlass.tumblr.com/post/98434599746/uh-oh-sounds-like-someone-forgot-to-take-their) in response to a lot of hate messages I’d gotten from the Scerek anon, so I decided to tweak it into a fic for Fuck Scerek Anon Week.
> 
> Original prompt from somewhere on Tumblr: _hey exchange student why don’t you can come to mine for thanksgiving?? college au._ And then I started writing and promptly forgot about the “exchange student” part, so this is just a werewolf college AU set during various holidays and school breaks. Fic title is a line from ["Holiday From Real" by Jack's Mannequin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juxI58JrJ_o).
> 
> College terms (based on my own college experience; the terms may vary in other places):
> 
>   * RA = Resident Assistant. They're an upperclassman who lives in the dorm (typically a single) and is in charge of the floor (or section of suites/apartments). They're the person to go to for roommate/housing issues, and host floor meetings throughout the semester. Scott also lives on a specialty floor, which is why Derek occasionally busts out (crappy) PowerPoints during floor meetings.
>   * Floor duty - at any given time, one RA has to be on call for multiple floors of the dorm. This means they have to stay available in their room to assist anyone who visits/calls with an issue.
>   * Orientation = Freshman Orientation. Takes place during the summer, gets new students registered for classes and acclimated to campus life.
> 


Beacon Hills University’s supernatural community is great, it really is. It’s really diverse, too, with druids and wendigos and even a banshee on top of bitten werewolves like Scott. It feels…accepting. Not just of werewolves or witches, like some colleges that Scott had visited, but of all kinds of supernatural beings. In fact, for such a small school, Scott’s surprised by how much he doesn’t feel alone. After everything that happened over the summer, he’s glad.

“How’s life in the werewolf dorm?” Braeden asks him. She steers him away from the crowded tables in the center of the dining hall towards the quieter booths in the corner. “Not too overwhelming?”

“You’re not my RA, Braeden,” Scott says, watching her pour a giant bowl of cereal into a Tupperware container. He should totally do that next time. “You’re not even my Orientation leader anymore, either. You don’t have to keep checking in on me, you know.”

“Yeah, well, most of my friends have class until two today and I was hungry,” Braeden says. “Besides, Laura Hale graduated last year, and I know her replacement is pretty crappy.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He’s the only RA you’ve had; of course you’re going to say that.” Braeden pushes her plate of fries towards him. “Speaking of RAs, my club’s hosting a seminar on mixed communities next week. You should go; it fulfills one of your Culture Expansion requirements.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Scott nods. “My roommate’s human, so he’s interested in learning more. I think we’ve convinced half of the floor to go, actually. I mean, most of them will probably just fall asleep, but it’s a start, right?”

“Right.” Braeden grins at him. “I’m glad you’re fitting in well with them.”

He’s glad, too. It’s been a pleasant surprise, actually, how many of his floormates seem to like him. Or not completely hate him, anyway. He got off to a kind of rough start with Isaac from the triple across the hall – there was a lot of mutual sniffing and weird posturing that Scott isn’t proud of, but at least Isaac’s equally embarrassed by it – but now, Isaac’s become one of his closest friends. And Scott’s roommate, Stiles, is pretty much the best friend/brother that Scott’s been waiting for his entire life. It’s pretty cool that BHU is so accepting that humans even sign up to live in the werewolf dorm instead of just getting placed there as leftovers.

Hell, even Allison down the hall comes from a hunter family, and she gets along with everyone else just fine. (Well, apparently there was some weird misunderstanding between her and Boyd and Erica last year, but they seem to be good friends now.) They’re a pretty close-knit floor, and Scott hasn’t felt this relaxed since before he got bit by a rogue alpha back home.

That Whittemore kid seems to hate Scott, especially now that Scott’s eyes occasionally flash red for some reason, but he’s manageable. Especially since he reluctantly bows under the authority of Derek Hale, Scary-Hot RA.

(That’s the name Stiles and Isaac came up for him, anyway. Scott doesn’t think that Derek is all that scary – “Easy for you to say, he actually talks to you,” Stiles huffs, while Isaac nods vehemently next to him – but he’ll admit that he’s pretty hot. Scott thinks most of it stems from that leather jacket he always wears during floor meetings – although he’s also seen Derek darting across the quad in a truly unfortunate windbreaker and wrinkly BHU sweatpants, and he still looked pretty hot then, but it’s probably just the leather jacket. Totally.)

The first three months of Scott’s freshman year go great, up until the week of Thanksgiving break. The bustling dorm loses half of its inhabitants seemingly overnight, despite there still being two days of classes left. “Not like any of the profs are really trying, anyway,” Stiles says as he jams two months’ worth of laundry into a duffel bag. “This place is pretty remote, you know, everyone who isn’t local’s got a flight home to catch.” He struggles with the zipper, crowing in triumph when it finally squeezes shut. “So when’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your flight home,” Stiles repeats. “I’m leaving after my morning class on Wednesday, since I don’t live too far from here. You?”

“Oh,” Scott says. He can’t really afford to fly home – he’s at BHU on a scholarship, and on top of that…he’s still kind of terrified to go back home. He’s gotten used to being a werewolf, but he didn’t ask for the bite like most people seem to. He still can’t walk by the neighborhood park without remembering getting tackled to the ground by a monstrous beast, certain he was about to die. He lost all his friends after the change took over, anyway, so it’s not like he has much to look forward to back home. Mom understands. She’s flying up here for Christmas. “Sorry,” he says when he realizes that Stiles is still patiently waiting for an answer. “Uh, I’m not leaving. I’m staying here for break. Too short for me to fly back, y’know.”

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Stiles says, but he frowns. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t realize – shit, I should’ve asked if you wanted to come back with me. It’s just a four-hour bus ride, I’m sure we can get you a ticket-”

“No, it’s cool,” Scott says. “It’ll be fun to explore the campus without so many people around, y’know? Actually see the lake, get to know the woods without all everyone’s scents muddling things.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. “If you change your mind tomorrow, or even on Wednesday, let me know, though.”

“Thanks, Stiles,” Scott says. “But it’s cool. I can manage a few days on my own.”

Soon enough, he’s waving Isaac off as he drives away with Boyd and Erica, and carrying Allison’s bag down to the taxi late on Tuesday night, and making a travel goodie bag for Stiles to munch on during his Wednesday bus ride home. Before he knows it, classes are officially over and he’s more or less the only soul left on his floor. He carries his laptop out to the common room, determined to sprawl like he’s never been able to before, and nearly drops it in shock when he sees Scary-Hot RA sitting in the corner chair in the dark.

Derek clicks the light on. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going home for Thanksgiving?” he asks.

Scott collapses onto the couch, trying to keep his heart from pounding right out of his chest. “I didn’t think it was a big deal?” he tries. “I’m allowed to stay during the academic year; it’s part of the werewolf dorm deal.”

“The dining halls are all closed.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says. “I can feed myself for a couple days, you know.”

“You and I are literally the only people in the building right now,” Derek says. Scott knows. He never thought he’d actually miss hearing the endless chatter and mingled heartbeats, but everything feels so silent now. “I was planning on heading home tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah,” Scott says, and tries not to think of how much quieter things will be when he’s the only one left. He sits up when Derek stands and grabs Scott’s laptop. “Hey, what’re you doing?”

“I’m still planning on heading home tomorrow morning,” Derek says. “And it’s already midnight, so if you wanna be ready to go by then, you need to start packing right now.”

“Packing?” Scott repeats as he follows Derek down the hall. Derek opens the door to his and Stiles’ room, pulling Scott’s backpack from a pile of laundry and tossing it onto the bed.

“Yeah, unless you want to wear the same clothes for the next four days,” Derek says. “I won’t judge you, but my family probably will.”

“Your…family?”

“Yes,” Derek says slowly. “Because you’re coming with me to my family’s house for break.”

“I-” Scott starts. He rubs the back of his head. “Listen, Derek, you don’t have to do this just because you’re my RA and I’m the one idiot who couldn’t catch a ride home.”

“I’m not doing this because I’m your RA,” Derek says. “If that were the case, Lydia and Jackson would be here with us right now instead of in Hawaii with Danny, where they’re much happier.”

“Oh.” Scott tilts his head. “You set that up?”

“No, they did. But I knew weeks ago that they weren’t scheduling any flights home for break.” Derek unplugs Scott’s chargers from the wall and starts winding the cords. “You’re not the only one here whose home doesn’t feel like home anymore, Scott.”

“Oh.”

“It’s different for everyone,” Derek continues. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t want to talk about it. But my family’s all werewolves, so you’re not going to hurt anyone, and there’s plenty of free rooms and empty woods if you wanna avoid all of us, too. Laura’s brought home some seriously weird people; there’s literally no way you can freak my family out anymore.”

“Who’s Laura?”

“My older sister,” Derek says. Belatedly, Scott remembers the Laura Hale that Braeden mentions sometimes. “She used to be the RA here before she graduated, made the Culture Expansion program what it is now. Did I never tell you about her?”

“You’ve never really told me about anything.”

“Oh.” Derek looks down, setting down Scott’s books carefully. "Sorry. I’m not really the greatest at…words."

“Yeah, we all kinda figured that when you distracted us with pizza instead of talking for the first floor meeting,” Scott says. He shrugs. “How far do you live from here?”

“Technically, my house isn’t even off campus.”

“Oh.” Scott blinks. “Then why do you live in the dorms?”

“To help people like you, who didn’t get to grow up with families who already knew about all this stuff,” Derek says. “Also, because my family is really annoying and I can’t stand them.”

“Aha!” Scott says, pointing at Derek. “You’re just bringing me home so you can hide behind me the whole time. I knew it.”

“You got me,” Derek says with a laugh. He throws a t-shirt at Scott’s head. “Now hurry up and pack.”

Scott holds the t-shirt gingerly. “I, uh, haven’t really done laundry yet.”

“I know,” Derek says, pointedly not glancing at the dirty clothes strewn all over the floor. “Do you at least know how to use a washing machine?”

Scott’s mouth falls open. “Hey, I’ve been doing my own laundry for years.”

“Yeah, I can really tell by all those clean clothes in your dresser. Oh, wait, no, they’re all here on the floor instead.”

“I thought I’d have all of break to take care of it!” Scott says. He tosses the clothes into his hamper and grabs the laundry detergent. For some reason, Derek follows him out the door and down to the basement. “Wow, you really have that little faith in my washing machine abilities.”

“Scott, I’m an RA. Do you know how many times I’ve watched a freshman claim to know how to use this thing and then break it beyond repair five minutes later?”

“I’m not going to break the machine,” Scott says. He open the first door, and a pile of suds spills onto the floor. “…That was already there. That wasn’t me.”

Derek hops up onto the dryers, watching in amusement. “If you say so.”

Scott rolls his eyes and starts loading the next machine. “By the way,” he says. “Thanks. For, y’know, letting me crash your family’s Thanksgiving.”

"You’re not crashing anything," Derek says. "If I really minded, I would’ve just foisted you off on someone else."

Scott laughs. “Oh, so you’re saying that you do actually like me?”

He ducks his head to clean the lint trap and misses the soft smile that appears on Derek’s face. “Yeah, I kind of do.”

 

Derek really wasn’t kidding when he said his house was on campus.

Still, Scott kind of expected to walk or maybe skateboard down the road to get there, not trudge through the woods in the chilly morning air. “You live in the  _woods?_ ”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek says. "It’s creepy as hell and really cliche for a family of werewolves. But my great-great-grandparents didn’t want to get rid of the yard when they built the college.”

“The yard.”

"Yeah, they considered the woods ‘the yard.’" Derek shrugs. "In case you couldn’t tell, my family’s really weird."

“Nah,” Scott says, shaking his head. “You’re just saying that. I bet they’re really cool. Whoa.” He slows as the huge, dark house comes into view, and cranes his neck to take it all in. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, rubbing the back of his head as if living in a ginormous woodland mansion was something to be embarrassed about. “That’s, uh…yeah.” He gestures lamely.

“I could’ve sworn this was burned down when Stiles dragged me out here for Halloween,” Scott says. “All the upperclassmen told is it was haunted.”

“Oh, that,” Derek says. “Laura met a witch in undergrad, and they thought it’d be really funny to cast a glamour on the house and make it look all burned out during Halloween. It’s kind of a tradition at this point.”

“Oh, like the supposedly ‘haunted’ floor in Walls Tower where they throw the Valentine’s Day Blacklight Rave?”

“No, that one’s actually haunted,” Derek says. “I’ve met Walls a few times; he’s really nice.” He turns to Scott, placing his hands on his shoulders solemnly. “Now, I’m going to have to preemptively apologize for my family.”

“Oh, come on,” Scott says. “I’m sure they’re-“

The front door flies open. “Derek Scarborough Hale!” a young woman shouts. “Did you actually bring home a friend this time, or did you just kidnap an innocent freshman?”

Scott blinks. “Your middle name is Scarborough?”

“My parents were really into Simon & Garfunkel,” Derek mumbles.

The young woman flings her arm around Scott’s neck. “Hi, I’m Laura! Who the hell are you?”

Scott tries to hold out a hand to shake, which turns out to be really difficult from being stuck in a headlock. “Nice to meet you, Laura. I’m Scott, Scott McCall.”

“Oh,  _Scott McCall?_ ” Laura repeats. “Wow, Derek, he’s so polite. He’ll never fit in with the family. It’s a tragedy. Scott, you’re doomed.”

“Um,” Scott says as Laura drags him into the house. "So what’s your middle name, Laura? Sound of Silence?"

Laura stops walking, and Scott carefully raises his head as the arm around his neck vanishes. “Touché, McCall,” she says, squinting at him. “You just may last the night. And it’s Cecilia, by the way.”

Scott turns to Derek. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding about the Simon & Garfunkel thing.”

“Cora named her dog Boxer,” Laura says cheerfully. She whistles, and Scott hears the skittering of claws on wood. “C’mere, Boxer!”

Scott blinks as Boxer barrels into the room. Laura snatches his bag away right before the dog tackles him to the floor. “You have a boxer named Boxer,” he says breathlessly while Boxer licks all over his face.

“Aww, he likes you,” Laura says. “Yeah, Cora wasn’t very bright as a child.” Derek smacks her arm. “What? It’s true!”

“Where is Cora, by the way?” Derek asks.

“Cora’s our little sister, Scott,” Laura says. “Since I’m ninety-nine percent sure he didn’t tell you that already. And she decided to not fly back for Thanksgiving; she won’t be back ‘till Christmas. Which you would’ve known if you bothered coming by  _at all_  during the semester.”

“I was busy!” Derek says, sounding suspiciously close to a whine. It’s downright hilarious. “It’s my first year as an RA, and we have a kitsune this year, and-” His mouth snaps shut, glancing sidelong at Scott. “I’ve just been busy, okay.”

“Excuses,” Laura says breezily. “Boxer, scoot.” She helps Scott to his feet. “So, you any good in the kitchen?”

“I’ve been feeding myself since I was thirteen,” Scott says. “I think I’m pretty okay.”

“You probably dice onions all wrong, then,” Laura says. “Well, you can’t possibly be any worse than Charlie. We’ll put you in charge of the mashed potatoes. I know it’s been a while since you’ve been here, Derek, but you remember where your room is, right?”

“Who’s Charlie?” Scott asks as Laura steers him towards the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and watches Derek carry their bags up the stairs. “Derek’s not helping with the food?”

“He takes care of the pies,” Laura says. “He’s pretty good at baking. Did he ever bring you guys mini apple pies in a takeout box?”

Scott thinks back to their second floor meeting. “Wait, he  _made_  those? Those were the best pies I’d ever had. I ate, like, five of them.”

“Derek’s not very good at sharing secrets,” Laura says. “Or just information in general. Oh, and Charlie’s a friend I brought home for break once. He’s a dragon.”

“A dragon?”

“Yeah, he was a riot. Dead useless in the kitchen, though. Just barbecued everything and called it cooking. You should’ve seen his face when I showed him how to poach eggs, he was so confused.” She hands Scott a peeler and pushes a small mountain of potatoes in front of him. “Have fun.”

“Oh my god. How many potatoes do you guys eat?”

“Welcome to a werewolf family, Scott,” Laura says with a wink. "After dinner, we all go into the woods and bay naked at the moon.”

"Um,” Scott says carefully. “Cool.”

Laura’s lip trembles, and then she doubles over in laughter. “I can’t believe you fell for that!” she snorts. “You couldn’t hear me lying?”

“I’m not really good at telling that yet,” Scott admits. He drops a potato into the pot and reaches for another. “Or anything, really. Like, don’t Derek, but I can’t even keep my eyes under control. Isaac said they got kinda red this one time.”

“Hm,” Laura says. She pats his head and starts pulling cranberries out of the cupboard. “You know, you  _can_  talk to Derek about that sort of stuff. That’s what he’s there for.”

“Yeah, but I mean, he’s got the whole rest of the floor to deal with,” Scott says. “I don’t want to bother him about a really basic thing I should’ve had under control by now.”

“If you say so,” Laura says, sounding unconvinced. “Hey, how about I give you my number. Then you don’t have to worry about bothering Derek, but you can still talk to an experienced werewolf.”

“Thanks,” Scott says, handing over his phone. “I really appreciate it. Really."

"Hey, no one should have to figure this stuff out on their own. That’s why we started the program,” Laura says. She adds her contact information and calls herself. “Oh, you got a text from…uh, Stiles?”

“Oh, cool, what’s it say?”

“ _Found your ugly boxers in the laundry and I miss you already_ ,” Laura reads from the phone. She tucks it back into Scott’s pocket, smiling sympathetically. “Boyfriend?”

“Roommate,” Scott corrects. “He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. You know when you meet someone and it just clicks, like, wow, where have you been my whole life?”

“Yeah, that’s the greatest,” Laura says. “And you just know you’re gonna be in each other’s lives forever.”

“Yeah!” Scott says, nodding eagerly. “He’s like the brother I never had. That happened to you, too?”

Laura holds up her hand, wiggling a ring around her third finger. “I’m marrying her. So not quite the same, but I totally get it.”

“Oh, wow, congratulations! Is she coming over?”

“Yeah, my parents are picking her up from the airport. I’m pretty sure they love her more than they love me.” Laura rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “Her name’s Daphne. She’s finishing up grad school in Massachusetts. She’s a witch.”

“Is she the one who came up with the burned house glamour?” Scott asks. “That looked so cool on Halloween.”

“Yeah, that was all Daphne,” Laura says with a laugh. “She’s great.” She blinks down at the potatoes. “Holy shit, you peel fast.”

“Well, I’m not totally hopeless in the kitchen,” Scott says, grinning at her. Then he somehow manages to completely miss the potato and peel open his own finger. “Aw, crap.”

Derek appears next to him so quickly that Scott almost has a heart attack. “Are you okay?” he asks, herding Scott to the sink and running his finger under cold water.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t paying attention,” Scott says. His finger’s already completely healed by the time Derek turns the water off. “See? All better. Good thing I’m a werewolf, or that’d be a really embarrassing dinner story.”

“You kidding me? I’m gonna tell everyone how you peeled your own finger open,” Laura says. “Clearly, you can’t be trusted on your own in the kitchen. Derek, you should keep an eye on him.”

“Laura-”

“I gotta go check on the turkey, make sure Scott keeps all his fingers!” Laura calls, waving before shutting the back door behind her.

Derek sighs. “Really, I’m fine,” Scott says, turning back to the potatoes. “You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind,” Derek says. He coughs. “Besides, I should probably get started on the pies, anyway.”

“Yeah, Laura told me you baked those mini pies you brought us that one time!” Scott says. “Why didn’t you tell us you made them? If I’d known, I’d be bothering you for more, like, every week.” He pauses. “That’s probably why you didn’t tell us, huh.”

Derek shrugs. “I’d probably make you some, if you asked nicely enough.”

“Really?” Scott asks. Derek shrugs again. “I’m holding you to that, Derek. I have Laura have a witness.”

“Laura isn’t even here.”

“Yeah, but she’ll back me up anyway.”

“Oh, really.” Derek raises an eyebrow. “You think she’ll back you up over her own brother.”

“Definitely,” Scott says, nodding. “We’ve totally bonded. We get each other. My Stiles is her Daphne. We’re practically the same person at this point.”

Derek blinks. “Oh. I didn’t know…you and Stiles are…” He ducks into the cupboard. “I’m happy for you guys.”

Scott laughs so hard that he drops a potato. “Oh, geez, no, not like that,” he says, retrieving it from the sink. “No, like, how you meet someone and you just know you’re gonna be in each other’s lives forever.”

“Oh.” Derek emerges from the cupboard with an armful of spices, the tips of his ears pink. “I didn’t know that really happened. I kind of thought Laura was just talking out her ass for a while.”

“See, that’s why she’ll back me up over you. We get each other,” Scott says. He turns the stove on and eyes the ingredients on the counter. “Ooh, what kind of pie are you making?”

“Pumpkin and pecan,” Derek says. Scott inches closer to peer over Derek’s shoulder as he starts to mix the filling. “…What are you doing.”

“There’s, like, fifty billion potatoes in there; it’ll take a while to boil,” Scott says, jerking a thumb at pot. “And I’ve never seen anyone make pecan pie before. I’m observing.”

“It’s really not that interesting.”

Scott drops his chin onto Derek’s shoulder. “Better than watching potatoes boil.”

Derek sighs. “Fine, but don’t get in my way.” He carefully measures out a bunch of spices that Scott doesn’t know, but smell delicious anyway. “I, uh, I usually don’t get started on the pies this early.”

“Oh,” Scott says. “Sorry I kinda dragged you out here.”

“No, I mean,” Derek says. “I’ve got some extra time, so I could – I could make an apple pie, too. If you want.”

“Really?” Scott asks. Derek nods. “Dude, you’re the best!” Scott exclaims, flinging his arms around him. He feels Derek tense in his grip. “Oh, sorry. We’re not at the hugging stage yet, are we.”

“No, uh,” Derek says. “Hugging’s cool. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

“Oh, cool.” Scott grins. He clears his throat solemnly. “Okay. Derek, I’m going to hug you now.”

Derek rolls his eyes as Scott slowly wraps his arms around his middle. “You don’t have to  _warn_  me.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Scott says reasonably. “Wow, this sweater is really cuddly.”

“It’s from Macy’s.”

“I mean, you’re cuddly, too.”

“I am also from Macy’s.”

Scott snorts. “Did you keep the receipt? I should exchange you for a Derek who doesn’t tell such bad jokes.”

“I can feel you laughing, Scott,” Derek says. “You love my bad jokes.”

He hooks his chin over Derek’s shoulder, watching Derek pick bright red apples from the fruit basket. “Only a little.”


	2. Christmas

“Freedom!” Stiles shouts as he faceplants into the couch. “We’re free!”

“ _You_ are,” Scott says. He carefully extricates his notebook from under Stiles’ leg. “Me and Kira still have to take Deaton’s Bio final.”

“Ouch,” Malia winces from her sprawl in front of the TV. “Everyone says his are the worst.”

“All of Boyd’s pre-med friends failed the final last year,” Isaac pipes up. “But they still ended up with a B because the rest of the class failed worse, so I guess it works out.”

Malia nods. “So just don’t fail as bad as the rest of the class. That’s a good strategy.”

“Thanks?” Kira tries, exchanging glances with Scott. Malia and Isaac nod encouragingly before returning to their game.

Lydia walks into the common room and rolls her eyes. “You guys are _still_ playing that dumb video game?”

“It’s not dumb,” Danny says, elbowing her lightly. “Playing on Easy, though, _that’s_ dumb.” Isaac scowls at him.

“Mistletoe!” Kira and Malia shout in unison.

Danny glances up at mistletoe taped to the doorway. “This was here yesterday, though,” he says. “I thought you’re supposed to move it somewhere new.”

“Yeah, but Boyd put up a bunch more all over the place before he left, so we gave up trying to move them,” Stiles says. “Don’t follow anyone into the kitchen; it’s a minefield in there.”

Lydia rolls her eyes and tilts up her cheek for Danny to kiss. “Well, I want to do something better than play video games all night.”

“We could play board games,” Isaac says dryly. “Scary-Hot RA has Apples To Apples if we want to get _really_ crazy.” He glances up. “We’d have to get Scott to ask him, though. He’s not on duty right now, and he said not to bother him unless someone’s dying. But he actually kind of likes you, Scott, so he probably wouldn’t kill you if you asked. Probably.”

“Thanks,” Scott says, rolling his eyes. He shoves his notebook into his bag and follows Kira out the door. “But Derek’s really not that bad. And I have to go take a final now, so someone else can ask him about Apples To Apples.”

“I don’t want to play Apples to Apples,” Danny whines, then, “Hey, mistletoe!”

“Oh, right.” Kira turns to Scott. “Kiss for good luck?”

He kisses the tip of her nose. “We got this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“That’s the spirit, think positive.”

 

A cheer erupts from the common room as Scott follows Kira inside. “They’re alive!” Stiles shouts, at the same time that Malia yells, “Mistletoe!”

Kira halfheartedly kisses the side of his jaw. “That was terrible,” she says. “Why does Deaton want to kill us?”

“Just wait until you have Harris for Chem next year,” Isaac says, tilting backwards in his chair to smirk at them. “He’s the _worst_.”

“I thought Deaton was the worst,” Stiles says.

“Deaton’s _tough_ ,” Scott says. “His lectures are actually really interesting. But everyone says Harris is the worst professor in the entire Chem department.”

“I think he might actually be the worst in the entire science department,” Malia says.

Kira sinks onto the couch with a groan. “Great.” She frowns at the others, who are gathered around a steaming pot in the kitchen. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Getting you guys drunk!” Lydia says cheerfully. She drops white berries into the pot and stirs carefully. “There’s gotta be a way to make werewolf liquor.”

“My cousins get drunk all the time,” Malia adds. “They never told me how, though. It’s, like, a rite of passage to figure it out yourself or whatever.” She rolls her eyes and squashes next to Kira on the couch. “I don’t really know about kitsune liquor, though, sorry.”

Kira shrugs and curls up in Malia’s lap. “That’s okay. I’m just going to sleep and pretend I didn’t totally fail my Bio final.”

“As long as you failed better than most of the class, you’re fine,” Isaac pipes up. He sniffs at the pot, then leans back with a grimace. “That smells _nasty_.”

“It’s vodka and day-old mistletoe, what do you expect?” Danny says.

“Whoa.” Scott blinks. “Did you say _mistletoe?_ ”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure mistletoe affects werewolves,” Stiles says. “Scary-Hot RA mentioned it during his last Culture Expansion lecture-”

“Someone seriously needs to teach that guy how to make better PowerPoints,” Danny mutters.

“-so we figure we’d start there.” He fills a glass and holds it out to Isaac. “Bottoms up, guinea pig.”

Scott eyes the glass. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Mistletoe really isn’t as poisonous as people think,” Lydia says. “Barely anyone even dies from ingesting it. And anyway, I made sure to use much less than the lethal dose.”

“Okay,” Scott says. “I’ll try it, then.” He picks up at the glass, sniffs it carefully, then downs its contents in a single gulp.

The other watch him intently. “Do you feel anything?” Lydia asks. “Did it work?”

Scott shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says, blinking slowly around the room.

Stiles frowns at the pot. “Maybe we need more mistletoe.”

His vision abruptly blurs. Several voices call his name, but they sound faint, somehow, as if a pillow is pressed around Scott’s head. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, reaching weakly for the table. Bile rises in his throat and spills out of his mouth, and more shouts echo around him as his knees buckle. “Sorry, sorry, I-”

The world goes black.

 

He’s cold, trapped, alone in the dark with sharp pain gouged through his side. He’d been – something was – something _attacked_ him, someone with sharp claws and bright red eyes and even redder teeth. He doesn’t know where to go, doesn’t know what to do, can’t feel anything but his heart pounding in his ears and blood trickling down his body, warm, hot, _burning_. He’s alone. No one is coming to help him. He’s alone, and that _thing_ is coming back for him, he knows, can feel it calling for his blood. He can feel it clawing deep in his chest and squeezing tight, tight, so tight and choking and he gasps desperately for air, can’t see, can’t feel, can’t _breathe_ —

A sharp snap echoes through Scott’s ears. “- _mistletoe_ , what were you thinking – Scott!” A blurry face appears in front of him. Its eyes glow unnaturally bright, and panic seizes his body before a familiar voice speaks. “Scott, can you hear me?”

Scott gulps breath into his lungs, blinking until Derek’s face swims into focus. He’s fine. He’s in the Lycan Hall common room, not the woods by the park, and it isn’t dark, and he isn’t alone, and he can breathe. He’s fine. “I’m sorry,” he croaks out, and starts to sit up. “I’m fine. Ow.”

“Careful,” Derek says, helping him upright. “I, uh, broke your sternum.”

“Oh.” Scott blinks down at his torn-open shirt, then blinks again at the blood caking his torso. A wave of nausea rolls through him, and he tears his gaze away from the long-healed bite in his side. “Oh.”

“Among…other things,” Derek adds belatedly.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Stiles pipes up.

Derek whirls to glare at him. “And what the _hell_ were you thinking, feeding a werewolf mistletoe? He could have died! You should all be-”

“It was my idea,” Scott says. Derek turns back to him, deflating on the spot. “It was my idea to use the mistletoe,” Scott continues. “W – I was just trying to blow off steam after finals. It’s my fault. Just me.”

“Scott,” Derek begins. He sounds worn out, and a little hoarse. “You don’t have to…”

“I’m sorry.” Guilt wafts through the air, from everyone in the entire room, and it makes Scott dizzy. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“You-” Derek shuts his mouth, glares at the rest of the room, then wraps an arm around Scott and helps him to his feet. “Let’s get you to your room.”

Isaac lets out a sharp snort, then immediately claps his hands over his mouth. Derek spins around. _“What?”_

“Nothing, sorry,” Isaac says quickly, wide eyes darting quickly up to the ceiling before skittering away.

Derek follows his gaze to the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorframe. “Really, Isaac?” he snaps, stepping away from Scott. Scott grabs for the doorframe as his knees buckle. “You really think that’s funny right n-”

“Scott!” Malia shouts, running forward, and then the carpet rushes up to meet him.

 

He opens his eyes to an off-white ceiling and a scent that he can’t recognize yet feels comfortingly familiar. “Am I done passing out yet?”

“I hope so,” Derek says. Scott turns his head – on a pillow, he’s lying on a soft, fluffy pillow with that strangely comforting scent – to see Derek sitting next to the bed. And the rest of Derek’s room behind him. Scott blinks. It’s weird seeing Derek’s room from this angle instead of through his half-open door. “You kept waking up all night.”

There are shadows under his eyes, now that Scott’s vision has cleared. Derek looks even paler in the room’s weak light, rumpled and exhausted and downright _haggard_. “I’m sorry,” Scott says.

Derek scowls at him. “Stop doing that.”

“Huh?”

“Apologizing,” Derek says. “That’s the fifteenth time you’ve apologized since last night.”

Scott tries to laugh; it ends up sounding closer to a wheeze. “You’ve been keeping count?”

“Yes,” Derek says humorlessly.

“Oh.” He blinks. “Sorry.”

Derek sighs. “That’s sixteen.”

“Sor-” Derek’s scowl deepens. “My bad?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Kira told me what actually happened, by the way,” he says as he moves away from the bed. “So you can stop trying to blame yourself for everything.”

“But I-” He pauses when Derek opens the fridge, and the scent of chicken broth fills the air. “Is that soup?” he asks. Dimly, he thinks he should be embarrassed by how plaintive he sounds, but he’s _starving_.

Derek shoves a bowl into the microwave. “You’re hungry? Good. Don’t throw up on my bed.”

“I’ll do my best.” Scott sits up and accepts the bowl eagerly, drinking half of the broth before Derek hands him a spoon. “How come I’m here instead of my own room, by the way?”

“Because you and Stiles set up _bunk beds_ in your room for some godforsaken reason, and I don’t trust you not to fall out and break your face on the floor,” Derek says. “Plus, my room has more space.”

Scott glances down at his shirt. “And clean laundry.”

Derek shifts awkwardly. “Yeah, I kind of owe you a new shirt.”

“Well, I hope it’s not this one. I don’t really want a Freshman Orientation shirt from two years ago.” He wiggles his arms. “You were smaller back then.”

“Yeah.” Derek sets the empty bowl on his desk, then settles carefully on the floor. “Listen, I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” Scott says, shrugging. “I was unconscious for most of that, anyway.” Derek stares at the floor, frown deepening. “Too soon?”

“Mistletoe poisoning isn’t actually something RAs are trained for,” Derek says quietly. “We’re supposed to just get you to the Student Health Center as quickly as possible. But, uh.” He winds his hands together nervously. “My sister, Cora. A few years ago…I kind of pissed off a witch, and she poisoned Cora for revenge. It wasn’t fatal, actually really simple for any witch or druid to treat, but I didn’t know that, and I thought she was dying.”

Derek trails off into silence. Scott moves to the edge of the bed, nudging Derek’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“She was fine,” Derek says. “I mean, she wasn’t fine, she got hurt because of me, but she wouldn’t have died. Anyway, that’s when Deaton taught me how to treat mistletoe poisoning. There’s a quick and dirty method to speed up the healing process for werewolves. So…” He glances sheepishly up at Scott. “I’m sorry I overreacted. And I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

Scott nods. “I still don’t think you were overreacting,” he says. “That sounds terrifying. Remind me never to piss off a witch.”

“I don’t recommend it,” Derek says dryly. His phone buzzes on the desk, and he turns it off with a scowl. “Laura,” he says. “Demanding to know why I’m holding you hostage instead of staying at the house.”

“Oh.” Scott glances at the calendar on Derek’s wall. “We were supposed to head over today, weren’t we?”

“Yesterday, actually.”

His mouth falls open. “I passed out for a whole _day?_ ”

“Cora was out for three,” Derek says with a shrug. “I told my mom you were helping me with RA stuff. As long as you’re better by the time _your_ mom gets here, no one’ll know.”

“Thanks,” Scott says. He lets out a long yawn. “I think I’m gonna sleep some more.” He wriggles further down into the blankets, then glances up when Derek doesn’t move at all. “Are you just going to stare at me for the next hour, or…”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Derek asks.

Scott blinks. “Huh?”

“When you were sleeping, you’ve been…” Derek says. “It, uh, kind of sounds like you’re having a nightmare. The same one.”

“Oh.” Fear shoots down his spine like a cold chill, and his chest tightens. “I, uh,” Scott says, forcing breath into his lungs. He can breathe. He’s fine. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Derek stares at him for a long moment, then lets it go. “Okay,” he says, and picks up the bowl from his desk. “I’m gonna go wash this and make more soup. Call me if you need anything.”

Scott nods and lies back down. “I’m stealing your laundry detergent,” he mumbles into the pillow. “It smells so good.”

Derek laughs. “Okay.”

“I’m keeping this shirt, too.”

“You do that.”

Derek opens the door to leave. “Hey, Derek?” Scott calls.

Derek turns around immediately. “Yeah?”

Scott tucks the blankets closer around him, trying to figure out his words while Derek watches him expectantly. “Thanks.”

Derek smiles faintly. “Go to sleep, Scott,” he says, and shuts the door softly behind him.

 

“Hey, Scott!”

Scott turns around to see Cora leaning out of the Hale house’s back door. Boxer darts out to lick Scott’s face before running back inside. “Our moms just cut the pecan pie. You want some?”

“Maybe later,” Scott calls back. “I think I’m going to stay out here a little longer, if that’s okay.”

“Suit yourself.” Cora brushes stray snowflakes from her hair and frowns up at the sky. “It’s probably gonna get really cold, though, just so you know.”

Scott shrugs. “It doesn’t really snow where I’m from,” he says. “This is still pretty cool to me.”

“If you say so,” Cora says. “I’ll make sure they save you a slice. You’re on your own, though, Derek,” she adds quickly, then brushes more snow off her jacket and shuts the door behind her.

“We can split my slice,” Scott tells Derek. “I like apple pie better anyway.” Derek huffs out a snort and sits down next to Scott, his fluffy black tail swishing gently through the snow. “I still can’t believe you never told me that turning into a giant wolf runs in your family.” Derek rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. I don’t care if it’s isn’t a common werewolf thing, that’s still a pretty big life detail to leave out.”

Derek grumbles and leans his weight against Scott. Scott tips into the snow with a yelp before he regains his balance. “Real mature, Derek.” Derek huffs at him again, tongue lolling in amusement. “Hey, thanks for having me and my mom over for winter break. I’m really grateful.”

Derek leans more heavily against him. Scott tilts his head back and stares up at the moon, shining bright and full through the treetops. “You know, I never really knew the moon could be like this,” he says. “It’s so peaceful.”

Derek tilts his head inquisitively. “Ever since I was bitten, I’ve sort of…full moons scare me, I guess,” Scott says. “I always felt so out of control, like I wasn’t myself and I couldn’t stop it. I’ve gotten better, but, well, I’ve never really looked forward to the full moon. I kind of used to dread seeing it. But here…” He holds up a hand to catch the gently falling snow that almost seems to spill from the moon itself. “It’s so peaceful. It’s grounding, like an anchor. I think I finally understand.”

Snow falls harder around them, filling the hood of Scott’s jacket, and he shivers involuntarily. Derek noses insistently at him, but Scott can’t stop watching the moon slowly travel across the night sky. “I’ll go back inside soon,” he promises. “Just a little bit longer, okay?”

Derek stares at him for a long moment, then climbs to his feet with a sigh. “Fine-” Scott begins, then pauses when Derek curls around him, bracketing him in with warm fur. “…Oh. Thank you.” He tucks his knees into his chest. “You don’t have to stay out here with me, you know.” Derek leans up and licks the corner of his mouth. “What the heck was that?” Scott sputters, wiping his cheek with a laugh. Derek settles more firmly around him instead of answering, and Scott turns back to the moon. “Yeah, I like being out here with you, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

**From: Kira Yukimura, 9:00 pm**

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!_

 

**From: Jackson Whittemore, 9:08 pm**

_Happy new year_

 

**From: Erica Reyes, 10:01 pm**

_HAPPY NEW YEAR_

 

**From: Aiden, 10:04 pm**

_Happy new year Scott_

 

**From: Ethan, 10:04 pm**

_happy new year scott_

 

**From: Allison Argent, 11:02 pm**

_Happy New Year Scott!!_

 

**From: Jordan Parrish, 11:06 pm**

_Happy new year work study buddy!_

 

**From: Lydia Martin, 12:00 am**

_Happy New Year!_

 

**From: Laura Hale, 12:00 am**

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

 

**From: Isaac Lahey, 12:01 am**

_happy new year scott_

 

**From: Malia Tate, 12:02 am**

_HAPPY NEW YEAR_

 

**From: Boyd, 12:06 am**

_Happy New Year, Scott_

 

**From: Braeden, 12:10 am**

_happy new year mccall_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 12:12 am**

_happy new year_

 

**From: Danny Mahealani, 3:10 am**

_IT’S FINALLY MIDNIGHT HERE AND YOU GUYS ARE ALL ASLEEP_

 

**From: Stiles Stilinski, 3:14 am**

_Happy New Year Scotty!_

 

Scott looks up from his phone. “Stiles, why did you just text me?”

“I forgot to text you Happy New Year,” Stiles says.

“But we…I’m at your _house_ ,” Scott says. He blinks around Stiles’ dark bedroom. “We already celebrated New Year’s three hours ago.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t _text_ you,” Stiles says reasonably. “Danny’s text reminded me, so. Happy New Year, Scotty.”

He smiles. “Happy New Year, Stiles.”

Stiles yawns. “Now go to sleep. Dad’s going to wake us all up in a few hours for New Year’s breakfast. He doesn’t take no for an answer, trust me.”

“Well, it’s going to be fun watching him trying to get my mom to wake up.” He bundles himself in his sleeping bag. “Thanks for having us over for New Year’s. It’s been a lot of fun.”

“Told you the four hour bus ride’d be worth it,” Stiles says sleepily. “Next year you can stay for all of winter break so you’re not stuck with Scary-Hot RA.”

“He’s really not that scary.”

“He’s still pretty hot, though.”

“Yeah.” Scott nods into his pillow. “Pretty hot.”

“I knew it!” Stiles crows. “You think Derek Hale is hot!”

“Shut up.”

 

**From: Derek Hale, 4:12 am**

_happy new year, scott._


	3. Valentine's Day

“So, uh, the Valentine’s Day Blacklight Rave is tonight.”

Derek glances up from his desk, the corner of his mouth crooked in amusement. “Yeah. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” Scott shifts awkwardly on Derek’s floor. He chews his lip, then blurts, “So what time were you thinking of heading over?”

“Uh.” For a moment, Derek looks surprised – stricken, almost. “I’m on floor duty tonight. I can’t go,” he says. He smiles weakly. “You should probably head over soon, though. It’s starting…” He glances at his phone. “Now, actually.”

“Oh. Well, uh.” Scott grabs his papers, trying to tamp down the sudden disappointment curling in the pit of his stomach. “I have some journal articles I need to catch up on, actually. And it’s actually pretty quiet around here tonight, so now’d be a good time to get through them.”

Derek frowns at Scott’s papers. “I thought you finished your Honors readings yesterday.”

“Yeah, I did,” Scott says. “But Deaton gave me some new articles at office hours today, and-”

“Wait, that’s not required reading?” Derek slides out of his chair to sit next to Scott. He makes a face at the heavily highlighted pages. “Why’re you bothering with _optional_ reading?”

“They’re really interesting!” Scott squeaks. “I’ve never heard of True Alphas before; there’s barely any research on them. Besides, if I get through these readings now, then I have less to catching up to do if I get to work in his lab this summer.”

“ _When_ ,” Derek corrects absently, still frowning at the article. “Of course he’s gonna choose you for his summer program. You were top of his class last semester, right? And you actually go to his office hours. He’ll definitely pick you.”

“I hope so,” Scott says, blowing out a breath. “He’s kind of the reason I applied here in the first place.”

Derek’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, I mean, he’s one of the leading researchers in supernatural biology in the country. And he – what he used to do, traveling all over the world to help people who needed it most…” Scott shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. “That’s kind of what I want to do. I want to be able to help people. Every kind of person.”

It’s a silly dream, Scott knows. Incredibly unrealistic, especially now that he’s a bitten werewolf with a hell of a lot of catching up to do. But Derek just smiles at him and says, “I know you will.”

Sharp knocks echo through the door. _“Scott!”_ Malia calls. _“Come on, the rave’s starting!”_

Derek laughs and opens the door. “How’d you know I was in here?” Scott asks.

“You’re always in here,” Malia says dismissively. She tugs Scott to his feet and out of Derek’s room. “Let’s go! Erica got some – completely legal and age-appropriate beverages,” she corrects quickly, glancing wide-eyed at Derek. “That we will be consuming responsibly.”

“I didn’t hear any of that,” Derek says. He nudges Scott out the door. “Have fun, you guys.”

“No accidental poison this time, promise,” Malia tells Scott as she skips towards the elevators. “We got the real stuff. Druid brewed. I checked with Cora and everything.” She glances back at Derek’s closed door. “I thought you were gonna ask him to the dance.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Scott says quickly. The elevator doors open, and he follows Malia inside. “Besides, he’s on floor duty tonight.”

“Bummer.” Malia bumps her shoulder against his. “Well, I know just the stuff to cheer you up! Loud music, sweaty dancing, and lots and lots of werewolf booze! Oh, we should get you painted up before you get drunk, though.”

Belatedly, Scott notices the bright blue paint covering Malia’s torso in elegant swirls. “I have to get painted too?” he asks.

“It’s a _blacklight_ rave,” Malia says. She eyes him critically. “I’m glad you went with a black tank. But we might have to turn it into a crop top.”

“What?”

“Isaac likes having lots of space for his designs.” The elevator dings open, and Malia bounds forward with a grin. “Come on, let’s go!”

 

“I don’t think this is working,” Scott says, frowning at his drink. The music pounds through his skull, and the flashes of body paint glow bright and almost burning in his eyes, but Scott had kind of thought that getting drunk would be more fun than a mild headache.

Boyd shrugs. “The effects vary from person to person,” he says, shouting slightly to be heard over the music. “Erica’s a goner after one drink, but I usually need two or three to get a buzz.” He nods at someone behind Scott. “I’m heading back in; you wanna come?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay out here a little longer,” Scott says. Boyd nods and hands him another drink before disappearing into the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Scott takes a sip of his drink, grimaces at the taste, then sets it on a nearby table.

“Why so gloomy?”

He turns to see Lydia watching him, lips pursed. “I’m not being _gloomy_ ,” he says. “I’m having fun.” And he is – or, well, he was. The first few hours of painting and dancing and finally getting to blow off steam and have _fun_ were great. Scott just hadn’t realized how loud the music was, that’s all. Maybe werewolf liquor just makes him the gloomy kind of buzzed.

Lydia’s mouth twists. “You don’t have to stay just because no one else wants to leave, you know,” she says. “Stiles is a big boy; he’ll make it home in one piece.”

“I know,” Scott says. “I just-”

_“Scott!”_

They turn to see Isaac dashing up to them, eyes wide. “Scott, Jackson picked a fight with the twins and then Boyd tried to break things up but then the twins went after him instead and now-” He grabs Scott’s shoulder as he catches his breath. “Can you help? They actually listen to you.”

“Barely,” Scott says, but follows Isaac through the crowd.

Aiden and Ethan have Boyd pinned against the far wall, eyes glowing and claws out while the crowd carefully draws back from them. A few feet away, Danny struggles to hold back a visibly enraged Jackson, but at least seems to have calmed him down enough that Jackson doesn’t try to break out of his grip. “Ethan! Aiden!” Scott shouts, pushing himself between Boyd and the nearest twin. “Ethan, c’mon, let it go.”

A fist slams into his jaw. “Back _off_ , McCall!” Aiden growls as Scott’s head snaps back and sends him spinning. Scott stumbles, tries to regain his footing, and then his world abruptly tilts sideways as two sets of hands shove him across the room. Sharp pain flares through his body as he smashes through glass, quickly followed by an odd sort of relief as cool night air breezes across his skin. Someone starts to scream.

_Oh, shit,_ he barely has time to think before he slams into the ground.

 

“Oh, shit.” Scott groans his way back to consciousness. His entire body feels smashed, and he doesn’t really want to open his eyes to check. He coughs wetly, and his nostrils fill with the metallic tang of blood. “Oh. Shit.”

_“Scott!”_

Unintelligible shouts ricochet through his skull, accompanied by what sounds like a small stampede. Scott draws in a painful breath and waits for the world to stop spinning.

_“Oh, god.”_

_“He’s still breathing!”_

_“Call-”_

“Scott?”

Allison. That’s Allison’s voice he can hear next to him, and Allison’s hand hesitantly touching his own. “Scott, can you hear me?”

He opens his eyes slowly. Stars twinkle in the night sky, all the brighter in the moon’s absence. Allison’s hair falls into view, and he tries to squeeze her hand back. “Hey.”

“Is he – oh, _shit_.”

Scott hears Stiles run forward and then skid to an abrupt stop. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring Allison’s muted protests and the pain shooting through his body, and sees Stiles frozen in place several feet away. The crowd behind him visibly recoils. Lydia’s mouth hangs open in shock, and Aiden looks downright terrified. “What,” Scott croaks out. He coughs out more blood and tries again. “What’s…”

“Scott,” Allison says softly. Her heart pounds too loud and fast in his ears. “You…your eyes.” She helps him sit up, supporting his weight with a trembling arm. “They’re red.”

He blinks. Allison’s wide-eyed expression doesn’t change. “What?”

“Scott!”

Derek slows to a stop in front of them. He doesn’t flinch back when Scott turns to face him, and Scott’s comforted by it before he realizes that Derek doesn’t seem surprised at all. If anything, he looks…guilty. Scott pushes down the roiling in his gut and wets his lips to speak. “What’s happening to me?”

Derek slowly kneels. “Scott, you’re an alpha.”


	4. Easter

**From: Cora Hale, 1:23 pm**

_happy easter_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:24 pm**

_happy easter, cora_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:26 pm**

_is laura on ur shitlist too_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:26 pm**

_what_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:27 pm**

_no one’s on a shitlist_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:27 pm**

_i don’t have a shitlist_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:28 pm**

_so is she on it_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:30 pm**

_no_

 

**From: Laura Hale, 1:30 pm**

_HAPPY EASTER SCOTT MCCALL!_

 

**To: Laura Hale, 1:31 pm**

_haha happy easter, laura_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:31 pm**

_sorry my familys a bunch of lying assholes_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:32 pm**

_theyre not_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:32 pm**

_yes they are_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:32 pm**

_and you don’t have anything to apologize for_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:33 pm**

_well they sure do_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:36 pm**

_wanna see something rly pathetic_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:39 pm**

_not really_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:40 pm**

_too late its already sending_

 

Scott squints at the image when it loads, not really sure what he’s looking at. It’s a picture of the campus woods, for sure, and he can just barely see a sliver of the Hale house’s back porch at the bottom of the frame. Tiny patches of snow are still scattered across the woods, melting slowly into the blurry ground.

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:42 pm**

_yeah, i guess melting snow is pretty sad_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:43 pm**

_ugh no not that_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:44 pm**

_lemme get a closer pic hang on_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:44 pm**

_okay_

 

The next picture is further from the house, darkened under the shade of the trees and taken at a weird sort of overhead angle. Scott turns his phone upside down, squints at the dark shadow at the picture’s center, then turns it upright again and squints at it some more. He finally sees the fuzzy point of an ear along the shadow’s edge, then the faint shine of a wet nose, and nearly drops his phone in surprise.

It’s Derek, curled up into the most miserable-looking wolf that Scott has ever seen. He can recognize the surrounding trees, too, the fallen log with its odd little knot that Scott had sat by to watch the full moon traipse across the December sky. A lump forms in his throat as he studies the picture, Derek’s eyes squeezed tightly shut with his chin propped on the last patch of dirty snow.

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:46 pm**

_hes being such a moody brat its so annoying_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:47 pm**

_if hes like this all week im running to colorado_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:47 pm**

_hope ur having a better time over there_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:48 pm**

_yeah, there’s lots more snow here_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:48 pm**

_i think we’re going skiing tomorrow_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:49 pm**

_nice_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:49 pm**

_i expect pics_

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:50 pm**

_haha will do_

 

**From: Cora Hale, 1:51 pm**

_k i gotta go but one last pic_

 

He opens the last image to see a picture of Cora biting into a mini apple pie.

 

**To: Cora Hale, 1:52 pm**

_oh now that’s just mean_

 

 

“Scott!”

Scott steps off his board just in time to catch Erica as she skids into him. They go down in a pile of limbs, Erica accidentally headbutting him in the chin as he lands heavily in the snow. He spits out a mouthful of hair and grins at her. “Hey, you almost got the hang of stopping that time.”

Erica pops up with a grin, helping him to his feet before she unbuckles her board. “I think I’m getting better,” she says happily. “I never knew snowboarding could be this fun.”

Malia stops neatly in front of them. “Me and Allison are gonna try some jumps at Lowdown Park later. You wanna come?”

Erica brightens eagerly, then shakes her head with a slump. “Maybe tomorrow. I should probably get better at stopping first, so I don’t run anyone over. Besides,” she adds, flashing Scott a cheeky grin, “I wouldn’t want to leave Scott all by himself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Scott says. “I’ve got Kira and-” He glances around. “…Where’d they go?”

Kira slowly skis towards them, towing Stiles behind her with a pole. “It just gets so flat at the end, you know,” Stiles says. He plants his own ski poles in the snow, then sighs when they immediately fall over. “I don’t get how you’re supposed to go faster.”

“Momentum,” Isaac says, carrying his board over with a smirk. “If you didn’t spend the whole time inching down the pizza position, you’d actually get somewhere. Like Boyd,” he adds, nodding over his shoulder as Boyd stops carefully next to him. “He’s actually good at listening to instructions.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Boyd mutters. He plants his poles in the snow, and Stiles squints when they stay perfectly upright.

“Yeah, laugh all you want, Lahey,” Stiles says. “I totally saw you eat snow getting off the chairlift.”

Isaac quickly swats snow out of his hair with a scowl. “You didn’t see anything. And you-”

“Guys,” Scott interjects. Stiles and Isaac slowly subside. “I think most of us beginners have gotten the hang of the basics, so how are we feeling? Try this run again, or maybe try a longer one?”

“Longer one,” Malia says immediately. “Sorry, I mean, if any of the beginners want to try the runs on Sam’s Knob, I’d be fine with coming along. What do you think, Scott?”

Scott blinks when everyone turns towards him expectantly. “Well, I mean, it depends on what everyone’s comfortable with,” he says. “We can split up into groups, if some want to go and some want to stay here.”

“That makes sense,” Isaac says, nodding. “I’ll go wherever you’re heading, Scott.”

He blinks again. “Um.”

Lydia skis up to them. “Anyone want to go to Sam’s Knob?” she asks. “I’m heading over now if anyone wants a lift buddy.”

Erica’s mouth twists as she watches Lydia head for the chairlifts on the other side of the lodge. “Great, it’s a flat path over,” she says, frowning down at her board. “I should probably just walk.”

Boyd holds out his pole. “I could tow you, if you want.”

“Really? Awesome!” Erica grabs the end of his pole with a beaming smile. “See you guys later!” she calls as Boyd tows her down the path.

Isaac glances at Stiles. “I’m not towing you,” Stiles says immediately.

“Like you even _could_ ,” Isaac scoffs. “I’d get there on foot faster than you anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Stiles snaps. He immediately starts skiing down the path, quickly followed by Isaac running after him with his board.

Allison hurries out of the lodge to join them. Scott holds her board while she refastens her gloves. “Where’s everyone headed?” she asks.

“Sam’s Knob,” Kira says. “Scott, I’m fine staying here if you’d rather-”

“Nah, don’t worry about me,” Scott says. “You guys have fun. I’ll be right behind you.” Kira smiles and picks up her poles, holding out one end to tow Malia to the chairlifts. Scott turns back to Allison, then blinks when he sees her smiling at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Allison says, shaking her head softly. “Just…nothing.”

“I promise I won’t go all alpha eyes again,” Scott says, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead. He picks up his board and follows her to the chairlifts. “That first night was an accident.”

“Hey, it got Isaac and Stiles to stop fighting,” Allison says, shrugging. “And it _does_ come with some nice perks.”

“Like ticket discounts?” Scott asks as they line up for the chairlift. He waits for the lift to carry them away from the terminal before he adds, “I’m not _really_ everyone’s alpha, though.”

“Mmm,” Allison says noncommittally. “Well, this place seemed to buy it well enough.” She raises her eyebrows, voice pitching higher in a comical imitation of the ticket vendor. “‘An _alpha!_ And so young! Oh, we’re so happy to have such an upstanding citizen at our ski resort!’”

Scott nudges Allison as she laughs. The chair sways gently, and he checks that the security bar is settled firmly over Allison’s lap. “I’ve never even been to Colorado before,” he says. “I don’t get why she’d assume I’m an ‘upstanding citizen.’”

“Alpha assumptions,” Allison says, waving a hand. “They’re groomed for inheritance, you know. No one really becomes an alpha unless they’ve earned it.”

“Or unless they killed an alpha.”

“Outliers,” Allison says. She knocks her board against his. “And they certainly wouldn’t be hanging out at a ski resort in Aspen if they did.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Thank you, by the way,” he says. “For inviting us to your dad’s cabin.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Scott,” Allison says. “My parents barely use that cabin anyway. I’m just glad you guys actually wanted to go somewhere snowy for Spring Break.”

“Hey, snow is awesome. I don’t think I’ll every stop being excited about it,” Scott says. The lift lurches to an abrupt stop. “Uh-oh.”

“Probably someone fell getting off the lift,” Allison says, shrugging. She leans up in her seat and squints at the terminal far ahead, then slumps back down. “I wonder if it was Stiles.”

“Scott! Allison!”

Scott looks down to see Malia waving from the ski run beneath them. Isaac looks up to wave, then loses his balance and falls over. Lydia stops to help him up. “You want us to wait for you?” she calls up to Scott.

He shakes his head. “We’ll all meet up at the bottom,” he shouts back. Boyd raises his pole in acknowledgement, then follows the rest of the group down the run. The lift whirrs to life, and Scott turns back to Allison with a relieved grin. He sighs when he sees her face. “…You’re doing it again.”

Allison blinks. “Doing what again?”

“The staring thing. You’re doing the staring thing again.”

“Sorry, I just…” Allison trails off, shrugging helplessly. “You haven’t changed at all. I mean…” Her nose wrinkles, and she tries again. “You…you still feel like the same Scott I met on move-in day.”

Scott lets out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It’s worried him more than he’s willing to admit, that becoming an alpha has changed him. Everyone looks at him so differently now, as if they expect things from him. Great things. _Upstanding_ things. “I still am,” he says, and hates how uncertain the words sound in his ears.

Allison squeezes his hand. “And you always will be to me,” she says. The lift reaches the top of the mountain, and she pushes up the safety bar. “Now let’s go have some fun.”

 

“-yeah, sure, if you could – perfect. Thanks, Kyle. See you Monday.” Boyd hangs up his phone and takes the shopping cart back from Scott. “Sorry about that. Kyle just had some questions about the True Alpha stuff.”

“No problem, you didn’t have to come grocery shopp-” Scott pauses as Boyd’s words catch up with him. “…True Alpha stuff?”

“Yeah.” Boyd scans the bread section before tossing two loaves into the cart. “His neighbor’s a librarian, so we thought she might be able to help him find some stuff over break.” He considers the pancake mixes. “What do you think of instant pancake mix?”

“Make it instant waffle mix; Allison’s cabin has a waffle iron,” Scott says absently. “Why are you looking for True Alpha stuff?”

“Because you’re one,” Boyd says, setting the waffle mix in the cart. “And we know you’re really freaked out about it, and there’s not a lot of easily accessible information out there, so we want to help.”

“We?” Scott repeats. “You mean, you and Kyle?” He’d only met Kyle in passing – he’d been in Scott’s biology lab for the first week before transferring to another section. He can’t really see why Kyle would want to help out a freshman he barely even knew.

“Well, I just asked Kyle for a favor,” Boyd says. “But Danny’s been looking around for a while now – turns out family bestiaries are pretty easy to find now that everything’s digital. And Lydia’s been translating the older stuff Parrish found in the library. But it’s more that a lot of stuff just doesn’t have much on True Alphas.” He wheels the cart into the breakfast aisle. “I’m sure we’ll find something, though.”

Scott blinks, taken aback. “Thank you,” he says. “I didn’t know…you guys don’t have to do this.”

Boyd shrugs. “We want to. You don’t have to go it alone, you know.” His phone buzzes. “Sorry, that’s probably Kyle again.” His face darkens when he looks at the screen, and he shoves it back into his pocket. “Where to next?”

“Uh, we need drinks.” Scott heads down the next aisle and loads soda into the cart. “…Did something happen with Kyle?”

“No,” Boyd says. He lets out a heavy sigh. “No, that was Derek.”

His stomach plummets. “Oh.”

“I’ll deal with him when we’re back on campus,” Boyd says, adding chips to the cart. “He hasn’t been bothering you, has he?”

“No, I mean, it’s been…” Scott chews his lip. It’s been over a month. “I should probably talk to him, huh.”

“Why? He’s the one who messed up, not you.”

He looks up in surprise. “What?”

“He’s the one who messed up, not you,” Boyd repeats. “He should’ve told you that you were going to be an alpha as soon as he found out. You have every right to be mad at him.”

“I’m not _mad_ at him.”

“I would be. Pulp or no pulp?”

“Huh?” He looks up to see Boyd holding up two cartons of orange juice. “Oh, no pulp. Lydia hates pulp.”

“Well, she’s the one paying for all this,” Boyd says, eyeing the near-full shopping cart. He shrugs and puts away the other carton. “It’s not just that he lied to you-”

“He didn’t _lie_.”

“Lies of omission are still lies,” Boyd says. “And that’s something you had a right to know. He knew for _months_ and he never told you, and that’s not okay.”

“No one else told me, either,” Scott says. “Dean Morrell said she _told_ Derek not to tell me. And I get why they did, too. They thought they were doing the right thing.”

“Well, they weren’t.” Boyd shrugs. “And it’s okay to understand what they were trying to do, but still feel upset about it.” He places a carton of eggs into the cart and heads for self-checkout. “And Derek knows that he messed up. He’s not like Morrell or Talia Hale, you know. He’s your-”

“RA,” Scott says. “I know.”

“Oh.” Boyd sets the bananas on the scale and glances at Scott. For the first time that week, he almost looks hesitant. “I kind of thought he was your friend.”

He’d kind of thought so, too.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s a short walk from Scott and Stiles’ room to the single at the end of the hall. The rooms are right next door, actually, and Scott had appreciated the convenience for the past three months. Now, though, he wishes he had a longer walk to work up his nerves. He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door flies open almost immediately. “Scott,” Derek says, eyes wide with surprise. He grips the edge of the door. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Well,” Scott says awkwardly. He’s abruptly glad that he has a basket to hang on to. “I, uh, noticed that you taped little Easter baskets to everyone’s doors with candy and stuff, but, well, I also noticed that your door didn’t have one.”

Derek’s brows dip in confusion. “I’m the RA,” he says slowly. “I’m supposed to do stuff like that for you guys.”

“Yeah, and, like, we totally had a blast finding the Easter eggs that you hid all over the common room. But, um, it just kind of seemed like you were getting left out of all the fun. So…” He holds out the basket awkwardly. “We put this together for you.”

“Oh.” Derek blinks down at the basket in his hands, clearly caught off-guard. “This is for me?”

“Why else d’you think I would show up at your door with a _wicker basket?_ ”

“Testing out your Little Red Riding Hood costume?” Derek tries.

Scott rolls his eyes and shoves his hood back from his head. “Shut up.” He automatically steps into the room, then freezes when he remembers himself. He takes a breath and walks the rest of the way in, leaning awkwardly against the desk. “So how was your break?”

“It was fine,” Derek says, closing the door slowly. He stares at Scott’s knees the whole time, as if he expects Scott to make a break for it before the door finally clicks shut. His knuckles whiten around the basket. “Listen, Scott, I…I’m sor…I owe you an apology.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t.”

“I really do,” Derek says. “I should have told you. You had a right to know.”

Scott slumps against the desk. “I get it, though,” he says. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this soon. I was still getting used to being a werewolf. Finding out I was going to be an alpha on top of all that would’ve been overwhelming.” He shrugs, dragging his gaze up to meet Derek’s. “You were protecting me.”

“Yeah, because I did such a great job of that,” Derek scoffs. He digs into the basket and unwraps a Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg, holding out half to Scott. “And the thing is, I shouldn’t have been trying to protect you. I should have been trying to help you instead.”

Scott nibbles his half of the candy. “You _have_ been helping me, though.”

“Not enough.” Derek sets the basket on his desk and clasps his hands nervously. “I’ll do better from now on – if you’re willing to give me another chance, I mean, I completely understand if you don’t-”

“Derek.” Derek’s mouth immediately snaps shut, and he watches Scott anxiously. Scott steps away from the desk with a smile. “I’m going to hug you now.”

Derek’s arms curl around him, hesitant and feather-light as if he’s afraid that Scott will change his mind. Scott tucks his head into Derek’s shoulder. “Friends?” he asks.

Derek lets out a long breath. He squeezes Scott gently. “Friends.”


	5. Fourth of July

“How awesome is it that our campus is in the _woods_ but we’re only twenty minutes away from a beach?” Kira says, flinging her arms wide as she drops onto the living room couch. “Thanks a bunch for driving us down there, Braeden. Best day off _ever_.”

Scott slumps down next to her with a sun-addled sigh. “And thanks for pulling us in to your apartment for the summer,” he adds. “We really appreciate it.”

“Of course. You guys are great roommates,” Braeden says. She drops her bag on the table and heads for the bathroom. “Dibs on first shower.”

Kira rolls onto her stomach to peer down at Scott. “I’m showering next,” she says. “My hair smells like sea salt.”

“Sure, sure,” Scott says. He curses. “Crap, I forgot to buy more shampoo. Is it okay if I borrow yours? I’ll get some more after work at the lab tomorrow.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind smelling like apple cinnamon,” Kira says with a shrug. “I think I like the passionfruit scent better; can you get that one instead? Hey, wait a minute.” Her brows crease, and she leans down to poke Scott’s nose. “I thought Deaton gave you tomorrow off.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna go in for the afternoon anyway.”

Kira shakes her head fondly. “Such a model student,” she says. “Don’t wear yourself out too much, though. Our next Orientation session’s on the sixth.”

“You’re handling transfer students for that one, right?” Scott asks. “I hope Cora ends up in your group. She’s been complaining about having to go to Orientation all summer.”

“Oh god, she’ll probably wander off in the middle of the day and I’ll get in trouble,” Kira moans. “Well, at least she knows her way around campus. Can’t be any worse than some of the freshmen we’ve dealt with. That Talbot kid, I swear-”

“Cocky brat, I know,” Scott finishes. He’s kind of loved all of the freshmen in his Orientation groups. Mason from Group 4 had been especially excited for the coming semester; Scott hopes that he gets to be an RA for Lycan’s specialty floor so that he can get to know the freshmen more. “Derek’s gonna have fun dealing with them next year.”

“So will you,” Kira says.

“We don’t know for sure yet.”

“It’s a pretty sure deal. Why _wouldn’t_ they make you an RA for the werewolf dorm’s specialty floor?” Kira says. She ticks off points on her fingers. “One: you’re a werewolf. Two: you’re a True Alpha. Three: you lived on that floor last year. Four: everyone loves you.”

“Irrelevant and also untrue,” Scott says, tucking Kira’s fingers into her palm. “And I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Okay, okay,” Kira says with a laugh. “No jinxing the RA gig.” The sun glows bright and warm through the window as it sets, casting a golden glow across Scott’s face. He grabs a pillow from the couch and settles down on the floor, letting his eyes drift shut.

“Hey, Scott.”

He opens his eyes to see Kira peering down at him, suddenly serious. “Are you sure you’re okay with going out tonight?” she asks. “We can stay in if you want. Really.”

Scott sits up. “You don’t always have to worry about me, Kira,” he says. “Really. I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure?” Kira says. Her brows crease. “You’re always taking care of everyone else. All through Reading Week you went around taking away everyone’s headaches.”

“I’m an alpha; it’s the least I could do,” Scott says. He grins up at her. “Still finished with a 4.0, too.”

“And now you’re doing Orientation, and volunteering all your free time in Deaton’s lab, and then when school starts you’re going to be an RA, and I know you’ve been running around trying to take care of that Dunbar kid before he’s even _gotten_ here-”

“He was b-” Scott interrupts. His throat closes abruptly, stupidly. He coughs and tries again. “It’s only his second full moon. And he doesn’t want to move to campus early, he feels safer at home, so I just…want to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. He deserves to feel safe.”

Kira watches him for a long moment, then smiles softly. “See, that’s why you’re definitely going to be a specialty RA next year,” she says. “And I know that you wouldn’t have become a True Alpha if you weren’t ready for it, but…I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, too, Scott. Tonight…” She presses her lips together. “It’s like you just said. You deserve to feel safe.”

He nods. “I know. I’ll be fine. And seriously, Kira, you don’t have to miss out on having fun just because you’re worrying about me.”

“‘Fun.’” Kira rolls her eyes. “I’m a thunder kitsune, Scott. I can make fireworks any time I want. Skipping one night is not that big a deal for me.”

Scott shoves her with a snort. “You get _one_ tail and suddenly you’re hot stuff,” he teases.

Kira grins back at him. “Damn right I am.”

“Damn _right_ you are.”

 

“Over here!”

Scott glances around the lawn, shading his eyes against the sun’s glare, then finally spots Malia jumping up and down at the top of the hill. “Thanks for saving a spot for us,” he says while he helps Kira lay down beach towels. “Nice shorts. Very patriotic.”

Malia grins, twirling to show off her star spangled shorts. “If I borrowed your shirt, I’d be _super_ patriotic. Unlike some of us,” she adds, rolling her eyes at her cousins.

“My jeans are blue,” Derek says defensively.

“And he’s already getting sunburned, so he’s got the red and white now, too,” Cora adds.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Derek says, attempting to crane his neck over his own shoulder. “Right?”

“Hmm,” Braeden says diplomatically. Then she claps Derek on the shoulder, blithely ignoring his (badly concealed) wince of pain. “You guys are all set to stay at our place tonight, right?”

Malia nudges her bag and grins when its contents clink. “Brought lots of fun stuff.”

“And I brought the toothbrushes that these two forgot to pack,” Cora adds. She rolls her eyes when Derek and Malia dive to check their own bags. “Okay, it’s someone else’s turn to save the seats. I want food.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Braeden says. “Is that cart with the roasted corn here this year?”

“Right next to the cart with the smoothies in the coconuts.”

“Smoothies in coconuts?” Scott and Kira repeat in unison, turning to each other with excited grins.

“Yeah, they’re huge,” Malia says. “Me and Cora usually split one.” She makes a face at Derek’s bright red shoulders, then tosses him a bottle of sunscreen from Cora’s bag. “Jeez, Derek, when was the last time you put on sunscreen?”

Braeden shakes her head. “We’ll grab you a burger, Derek. Who’s gonna stay here with him? One person can’t guard all our stuff.”

“I’ll stay,” Scott says, sitting down on the towel. “Kira knows what kind of food I like.”

“We’re gonna get you a bunch of weird stuff,” Cora says.

“That’s why I’m giving my money to Kira and no one else,” Scott says, while Kira beams at him. “You pick the smoothie; I wanna keep the coconut.” Kira waves and follows the others down the hill.

“You and Kira are really cute together.”

Scott turns around to see Derek staring determinedly at a bottle of sunscreen. “Huh?”

“You and Kira,” Derek says. He glances up at Scott before quickly looking away. “You make a nice couple.”

_“Huh?”_ Scott says. Derek shrugs and starts slathering sunscreen on his arms while Scott gapes at him. “Wait – do you think me and Kira are _dating?_ ”

“I mean, if you don’t want to label things I understand-”

“No,” Scott says firmly. “We’re definitely not dating.” He tilts his head with a frown. “Where’d you even get that idea, anyway? If it’s the food thing, everyone knows I’m easy to buy food for. I like everything.”

“I know. I just thought – never mind.”

Derek rubs sunscreen onto his shoulders while completely missing the entire back half of his body. Scott sighs and takes the sunscreen from him. “Here, let me help.”

Derek huffs. “I can put on sunscreen by myself.”

Scott pokes his shoulder and watches the skin fade from white to bright red. “Apparently not.” He squirts sunscreen into his hand, then sniffs in surprise. “Whoa, this doesn’t smell like sunscreen!”

Derek shrugs. “Werewolves are sensitive to smells, so…”

“Right, right. Scentless all the way.” Scott smooths the sunscreen over the back of Derek’s neck and his ears before a thought occurs to him. “…Derek, were you smelling my hair again?”

Derek squirms under Scott’s hands. “No,” he says unconvincingly. “And it wasn’t _again_.”

“You were smelling my hair again, and my shampoo smelled just like Kira’s, so you thought we were dating,” Scott says. He hooks his chin over Derek’s shoulder to smirk at him. “I really hope you’re not planning on being Sherlock Holmes this Halloween, because that was terrible deductive reasoning.”

“That was perfectly logical reasoning,” Derek protests, twisting around to face Scott. “Friends don’t share shampoo.”

“We live in the same apartment.”

“Oh, yeah.” Derek deflates a little. “Good point.” He frowns when Scott hands over the sunscreen. “Don’t you need some?”

He holds his arm against Derek’s. “I already put on some earlier, and I don’t sunburn. I gotta say, though, wearing a black t-shirt is probably not doing you any favors.”

“Well, I-” Derek begins, then stops when he sees Scott pulling off his shirt. “…What are you doing.”

“My shirt’s white,” Scott says, holding it out. “Less sunburn, more patriotism. Win/win.”

Derek blinks down at Scott’s shirt. “Do you want to wear my shirt?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t have to worry about tanlines if I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“Oh, yeah,” Derek says, voice odd. “Good point.” He glances at Scott out of the corner of his eye, then puts on his shirt. “Cap’s shield looks better on you,” he says, poking the logo on his chest.

“I think you make a pretty good Captain America,” Scott says. “Less Steve Rogers, more Bucky Barnes.”

“I’ve always wanted a metal arm,” Derek deadpans. Scott laughs and settles down next to him while they wait for the fireworks to begin.

 

The moon rises slowly through the sky, bright and full against the scattered stars. If Scott breathes in deeply enough, he can still smell the trailing smoke from the fireworks, hear the whispers of lingering celebration and taste the adrenaline slowly fading from the air. He climbs out carefully onto the fire escape and sits down to watch the moon. The night air settles hot and stifling around him, wrapping around his neck like bated breath. He bites back a shiver, tucks his knees tight to his chest, and tries to remember how to breathe.

The window slides open. Scott tenses, starts to turn around, then relaxes when he recognizes Derek’s scent. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to-”

He falls silent when Derek gently squeezes his shoulder. “I used to have trouble sleeping on nights like these,” he says as he sits down next to Scott. He lets his legs dangle over the fire escape’s edge, swinging easily above the dark and distant ground, and Scott pushes down the urge to pull Derek back. “Something about the summer moons, when even the nights were hot and I felt so restless in my own skin.”

He inches closer to Derek until their arms brush. “Did the full shift help?”

“A little. Everything feels more settled like that, but…fur is really hot.”

Scott blinks, caught off-guard, then bursts into laughter. Derek grins and knocks their shoulders together. The moon doesn’t feel as ominous with Derek’s arm pressed against his, spreading warmth through his body and cutting through the thick night air. Scott takes a deep breath, then another, and another, until the tension leeches away from his body and he finally uncurls from his tightly-wound ball.

He still won’t – can’t – dangle his legs over the edge, though. He settles for tucking them to the side instead and leaning his weight against Derek. Derek grabs the railing to regain his balance, and the movement jostles loose the contents of Scott’s hoodie pocket. He watches the plastic tube clatter onto the fire escape and slide to a stop against Derek’s leg.

“My inhaler,” he says, as Derek carefully picks it up. “I used to have asthma, pretty bad, actually. Had to carry this around everywhere in case I had trouble breathing.” If he closes his eyes, he can still smell the damp earth and dried blood smeared deep into the plastic. He keeps them open. “It was, uh, after the fireworks. After the party, you know, fourth of July. There’s this park I always cut through to get back hom – to my house. It, uh, it was right next to the woods.” The moonlight bounces off the inhaler and flashes into his eyes. He blinks. “Just bad timing, I guess.”

Derek presses the inhaler into his hand, curling his fingers gently around Scott’s. “I still don’t really remember what happened,” Scott says. “That’s part of why I was so out of control the next night, when it was the full moon. I’m lucky hunters caught up with us, otherwise I might’ve…” He tries to pull away, but Derek’s hand tightens around his. “I would’ve killed someone.”

“You didn’t, and you wouldn’t have,” Derek says firmly. “You would have stopped yourself. I know you would.”

“The hunters had to pin me to a tree to subdue me,” Scott says dully. He taps his forearm. “Had to shoot an arrow right here. The pain was the only thing that made me stop, not because I wanted to.” He coughs out a dry laugh. “Crazy that all the scratches and slashes and gashes from fighting an alpha werewolf didn’t slow me down, but one tiny arrow through my arm – _that_ was the pain I actually noticed.”

Silences stretches between them, for so long that Scott catches himself scenting Derek’s chemosignals for discomfort or – his stomach twists into knots at the thought – disgust. “Betas don’t go against their alphas,” Derek says finally. “Bitten or born, it doesn’t matter. Fighting them – that goes against every single one of our instincts. You’d have to have a _really_ good reason to do that.” His thumb strokes over the back of Scott’s hand. “That’s how I know you would’ve stopped yourself from hurting anyone.”

Scott doesn’t answer. As much as he wants to believe Derek, he…he can’t remember much of anything from those nights. He can’t really remember what he was thinking, only…fear. He remembers fear all around him, from him, for him, _of_ him, and it all blends together in his mind like a foggy haze. Derek says, “It’s not supposed to happen like that.”

A laugh claws its way out of his throat before he can stop himself. “Kinda seems like everything I do is how things aren’t supposed to happen.”

“That’s not because of you, though,” Derek says. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” He shifts closer. “And what happened to you wasn’t your choice.”

Scott slumps against Derek, slowly digesting his words. “I guess it was all for the best,” he hears himself say. He doesn’t really know if he believes it, but – “I mean – so much has happened because of…because of all of this. People listen to me – people who have the power to make a difference _know_ about me, and they want to hear what I have to say.” He spreads his hands helplessly. “I’ve always wanted to be able to help people, and now I _can_ , in so many ways. So I can’t say…I can’t be ungrateful.”

Derek stares at him, brow furrowed. “Of course you can,” he says. “You were never given a choice – Scott, you were _attacked_. You have every right to not be grateful that happened to you.”

“But after everything that’s happened-”

“That doesn’t change what happened to you,” Derek says fiercely. He shifts closer, and his voice softens. “Even if you’re happy with your life now, even if you’re grateful for everything that’s happened after…you never got to choose it for yourself, Scott.”

_I didn’t want this_. He can’t say it out loud, can barely even think it. Because how could he _not_ want this, keener senses and faster healing that’s already saved his life. How could he _not_ want the added power of his red eyes, the attention and the connections and so many doors opening for him. He clutches his inhaler tight in his hand – if he closes his eyes, he can hear the plastic creaking under his grip. He hasn’t felt a trace of his asthma since the night he was bit, hasn’t needed to even think of reaching for his inhaler. But in spite of it all, he’s never really felt like he could breathe easy.

“Scott,” Derek says. His eyes search Scott’s face, inscrutable and yet achingly earnest. “You know, it’s okay to not be okay.”

His throat abruptly closes. He forces out, “I’m fine.”

Derek doesn’t reply. He doesn’t react at all, actually, just sits as calmly as he’d been before without even the barest shift in his muscles or his scent to give him away. Silence stretches between them, and Scott finds himself staring blindly down at Derek’s chest, at the soft fabric of his shirt shifting minutely with each breath. In and out. In and out. It’s as if the entire world slows down to the cadence of Derek’s breaths, steady and measured and utterly at ease, and Scott blinks when he realizes that his own breathing has slowed to match.

He lets out a long breath. “A year ago, I was human.”

Derek’s arm curls carefully around him. His hand rests gentle and warm on Scott’s side, right over unmarred skin where teeth had once gouged so sharp and deep. Scott closes his eyes and waits for the sun to rise.


	6. Halloween

Scott finishes highlighting his textbook and looks up at Derek. Or down, technically, since he’s sprawled out on Derek’s bed while Derek leans so far back in his desk chair that Scott doesn’t understand how it hasn’t fallen over yet. “How come every time there’s a fun school-wide event, you always end up having floor duty?”

“I don’t _always_ have floor duty,” Derek says defensively. “Two weeks ago, I went with you to the Vampire Club’s Breakfast For Dinner event at the dining hall.”

“Oh man, those waffles were so good,” Scott says, grinning at the memory. “But I mean stuff like tonight. Halloween Haunted House tour. It’s a BHU rite of passage. How come you don’t want to take the freshmen around the woods?”

“Because you actually _want_ to take the freshmen around the woods, unlike every other RA in the Housing program,” Derek says. He smirks at Scott, but his eyes soften too much for it to be effective. “And you’re actually trying to make it fun this year. Using Kira’s fox fire in the glamoured house is a really cool idea.”

“Anything to make the freshmen crap their pants,” Scott deadpans. He closes his textbook and tucks Derek’s pillow under his chin. “I wish you could go to the party at Allison and Kira’s later.”

Derek shrugs with a rueful slant to his mouth. “Floor duty. Can’t leave the dorm all weekend.” He picks up his book, then seems to notice Scott watching him. “What?”

“Josh was supposed to have floor duty tonight,” Scott says. “I remember it on the roster. But you traded shifts with him last week.” He tilts his head. “Why?”

Derek lets his chair drop back onto all fours. “I’m not really one for partying or big social events,” he says. “And Josh is a transfer student, so he should get to have fun his first year here. He mentioned Tracy invited him to Allison and Kira’s party, so…” He shrugs again. “I don’t mind.”

Scott slumps. “But you should get to have fun, too.”

“I really don’t mind,” Derek says. “Really. I don’t. I’m not a nice person like you, Scott; if it really bothered me, I wouldn’t do it.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “You’re a nice person, Derek.”

“Yeah, that’s why they call you the Good RA and me the Scary-Hot RA,” Derek says sarcastically. He smirks at Scott. “Who started up that tradition this year? It was Brett, wasn’t it?”

Mason, actually, although technically Isaac had been the first one to joke about it around young, impressionable ears. “I have no idea,” Scott says. “I keep telling them to call you Derek.”

Derek leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Sorry, I only answer to Mr. Hale now.”

Scott snorts. “Well, Mr. Hale, I’m taking you to breakfast tomorrow.”

The chair falls over. Scott leans over the edge of the bed to see Derek in a twisted heap on the ground. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you want to take me to breakfast tomorrow?” Derek asks. He untangles himself from the chair with a wince. “Also, you can’t. I have floor duty and you’re going to be way too hungover.”

“I’m an alpha; I don’t get hungover,” Scott says dismissively. “And, fine, I’ll _bring_ you breakfast tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because you did a nice thing, letting Josh go to the party,” Scott says. “And nice things deserve nice things, and also I noticed you’re out of pizza bagels so you’re probably going to starve tomorrow if I don’t bring you food.”

Derek blinks, then looks over at his microfridge. “Did you eat the rest of my pizza bagels?”

Scott nudges the empty plate under Derek’s bed and out of sight. “That is beside the point. Now, do you want burnt French toast or scrambled eggs the approximate consistency of rubber from the dining hall tomorrow?”

“Surprise me.”

“I will,” Scott says with a satisfied nod. “It’s a date.”

Derek blinks, as if surprised, then ducks his head with a shy smile. “Okay.”

The door opens with a knock, and Isaac sticks his head in. “Yo, Scott.”

“You know, Isaac,” Derek says exasperatedly, “Most people knock _before_ they open the door.”

Isaac ignores him. “It’s time to gather up the fresh meat for the haunted house tour.” He tugs a shirtcollar into view until Liam peers sullenly around the half-open door. “Went looking for you in your room, but I found this little guy instead.”

“I’m not little!” Liam protests, swatting Isaac away with a growl. “And Scott said I could study there if my triple with Mason and Brett got too crowded.”

Isaac blinks down at him, then at Scott. “You never let me study in your room when _my_ triple with Boyd and Erica got too crowded,” he says, sounding genuinely wounded.

“I didn’t have my own single last year, Isaac.”

“Oh, yeah.” Isaac shrugs and pushes Liam down the hall. “Go get your friends and meet us outside the dorm. Scott, you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Scott says, tipping his books into the spare drawer in Derek’s desk. “See you at breakfast, Derek!”

Isaac shuts the door behind him and follows Scott to the elevators. “Derek’s not going to the party?” he asks.

“No, he’s on floor duty,” Scott says. “So I figured I’d-” He freezes as his words from before catch up to him. “Uh oh.”

Isaac lunges uselessly at the elevator doors as they slide shut. “Forgot something in Derek’s room?” he asks.

“No.”

“Forgot something in your room?”

“No. Nothing like that, it’s, uh.” Scott sags against the wall. “So, uh, hypothetically, if someone says, ‘it’s a date,’ that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a _date_ , right?”

Isaac stares at him in utter bafflement. “…What?”

“’Cause, like, it’s a figure of speech, it doesn’t necessarily mean a _date_ date, it’s like, you know…it’s a date. Right?”

“…Yeah,” Isaac says, nodding slowly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The elevator chimes irritably at them, and he pushes the button for the first floor. “So Derek asked you out on a date?”

“No. Uh, I think I did…n’t?”

Isaac blinks at him for a long moment. “…Right,” he says. “So…were you trying to ask him out on a date?”

“Uh.”

“Okay, let’s try again,” Isaac says, sighing. “Do you _want_ to ask him out on a date?”

“Well,” Scott says eloquently. “I mean, well, that’s…that’s definitely a question.” Isaac blinks owlishly at him. “But, like, I _tried_ that already, and I just ended up getting thrown out a window-”

_“What?”_ Isaac interrupts, then, “Oh, you mean Valentine’s Day.” He makes a face. “Well, one, that barely counted as _trying_ to ask him out, and two, those were completely unrelated events, so I don’t really think-”

“But things are finally okay again,” Scott says. “We’re good friends now, _really_ friends. I don’t want to mess th – I can’t lose that.”

“Okay,” Isaac says quietly. He glances around the elevator, then asks, “Hey, what happened to your books and stuff? You didn’t take them back to your room before we left.”

Scott’s phone buzzes with a text. “Derek has a spare drawer in his desk that he lets me leave stuff in,” he says absently as he reads the message. “Okay, Danny says him and Lydia are set up in Walls Tower. He wants to know if Boyd and Erica are done yet. Have you heard from them?”

“Not ye-” Isaac’s phone chimes. “Oh, okay, they’re done setting up speakers in the woods.” His phone chimes again. “And Malia’s already furred out on patrol.”

“We’re going to Walls Tower first, though. We won’t get to the woods for at least another twenty minutes.”

“It’s Malia,” Isaac says, pocketing his phone with a shrug. “Too bad Derek couldn’t come; his fur’s practically invisible in the dark. And just FYI, Scott,” he adds as the elevator slows to a stop, “No one keeps a spare drawer.”

“I keep a spare drawer,” Scott says. “For all the crap you guys keep leaving around my room.” He frowns. “I’m actually really worried that Liam’s gonna run out of socks soon.”

“Exactly,” Isaac says, nodding. “Well, I mean, not the socks, because who cares. But my point is, you didn’t just happen to have an empty drawer that you let anyone use. You specifically set aside that drawer for our crap.” He nudges Scott with a grin. “Because you looooove us.”

“Yeah, well,” Scott says. “…Yeah.”

Isaac has no idea what he’s talking about, of course. Friends leave their stuff at their friend’s place all the time. It doesn’t mean anything that Scott only ever finds his own stuff in Derek’s spare drawer. He shakes his head as the elevator doors open, then pastes a smile onto his face and leads Isaac out the door and into the crowd of eager freshmen. “All right! Everyone here for the haunted House tour, find a buddy and keep an eye on each other for the rest of the night. If you don’t want a buddy, just hang on to my friend Isaac here.”

Isaac groans in dismay. “What? No.” He frowns as Liam shuffles forward, looking deeply betrayed that Mason paired up with Brett over him. “Can’t you buddy up with Hayden instead?”

“No!” Liam and Hayden shout in unison, then glare at each other.

Isaac sighs over Liam’s head at Scott. “See, this is why no one _volunteers_ to take the freshmen on the Haunted House tour. You owe me so many drinks at the party later.” He jerks a thumb at the crowd. “Ten bucks says the transfer student gets eaten by a coyote.”

“Hey!” Josh yells.

“No one is getting eaten by a coyote,” Scott says firmly. “As long as we all remember to use the buddy system.”

Corey and Lucas glance nervously at each other. “You’re starting to sound like Scary-Hot RA, Scott,” Corey says.

Scott lets his features shift. “All right!” he says, grinning toothily at the freshmen (and transfer student). “Who’s ready to go ghost hunting?”

 

Scott leans against the elevator wall with a happy sigh. Carrying Isaac home from the party hadn’t been easy. Carrying Malia home, though, had been even worse. “It’s a good thing I’m not drunk,” he mumbles to the elevator, then yelps when the wall slides apart beneath him. Oh. Those must have been the doors. He stumbles into the hall, makes a valiant attempt at gathering his bearings, then gives up and follows his nose to his room at the end of the hall. Scents were just so convenient. He pushes the door open – unlocked, again, because Liam or Isaac or Malia or any of his friends who keep finding excuses to crash in his room inevitably forget to lock it when they leave – and collapses facedown on his bed with a groan.

His bed grunts. Scott lifts his head and squints down at Derek. “Why’re you in my bed, Der?” he asks, and collapses into giggles before he can finish the sentence. After the fourth shot of whatever Braeden had poured into his cup, _everything_ was hilarious. Derek was a hilarious name. Derek. Deeeeeerrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeek.

Derek’s eyebrows lift. “Sorry,” he says, sounding amused for some reason. He tries to move, but Scott pats his chest and settles down happily.

“You’re very cuddly for not being a pillow,” he tells Derek, because making people feel good about themselves is important. “The best pillow ever.”

“Thank you,” Derek says, and he’s definitely laughing at Scott now. Scott laughs, too, because laughing is the best ever. “Do you need help getting your shoes off?”

“Your face needs help getting your shoes off,” Scott retorts wittily, and passes out mid-snore.

 

When Scott wakes up, his first thought is, _oh god the bed is moving_. Then he opens his eyes and finds himself not actually in his bed, or in his own room at all. He isn’t even in Derek’s bed, technically, since he’s sprawled out on top of Derek himself. “Wrong end of the hall,” Derek says, sounding far too amused for this early in the morning.

He props his chin on Derek’s chest. “Sorry,” he says contritely.

“Can you get off me now?”

“No.” Moving sounds like worst idea ever, second only to consciousness, and Scott has no intentions of partaking in any of it. He mentally congratulates himself for completing that train of thought and slumps back down to sleep.

_“Scott.”_

Derek tries to push him off, but Scott winds his arms around Derek’s chest and clings tight. “I’ll never let go, Jack.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Derek despairs, because he is exactly the kind of person who tries to apply sense to Titanic. “If you don’t move, I will lick your face.” Scott licks his chest in retaliation. Preemptive retaliation. It is a valid tactic, okay. _“Scott.”_

“Sleep time,” Scott mumbles. His mouth tastes terrible, but it also tastes a little bit like Derek now, so he chalks it up to a draw. He snuggles into Derek’s chest and falls back asleep.

Or, he does until the world lurches sideways. “What the-” he mumbles. Pipes creak above him, and he barely has time to wonder what that means before freezing water dumps all over him. Scott tumbles out of Derek’s arms with a shriek, and is only saved from braining himself on the shower floor by Derek catching him again. _“Why?”_

“I want scrambled eggs for breakfast,” Derek says. He hangs a towel over the door and closes it behind him.

Scott squints blearily up at the showerhead. This turns out to be a costly mistake, as water immediately runs up his nose. He whines in pain and trips over his waterlogged jeans. “You’re the _worst_ , Derek Hale.”

Down the hall, he hears Derek laugh.

 

An hour(…ish) later, he pushes open Derek’s door with a tray full of food. “I was starting to think you fell asleep in the dining hall,” Derek jokes, snatching up the plate of scrambled eggs before Scott can even set the tray on his bed. He shovels a forkful into his mouth, and his smile slowly fades. “These don’t taste like rubbery hell,” he says, brows drawing together in confusion. He looks up at Scott with wide eyes. “Did you _make_ these?”

Scott ducks his head with a shrug. “I kind of owed you after I, y’know, broke into your room and fell asleep on you,” he says. “And I still had a lot of breakfast ingredients from the last floor meeting.”

Derek stares down at his plate. “Thank you, Scott,” he says, voice odd. “You…you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Scott says. “You’re always doing stuff for me, and this is the only thing I’m kind of good at cooking, so-”

“This isn’t kind of good,” Derek says firmly. “This is _amazing_.”

Scott’s ears burn. “You don’t have to say that,” he mumbles.

“I’m serious. Scott, you’ve ruined scrambled eggs for me. I can never eat anyone else’s again.”

“Oh, well-” Derek leans forward and snatches a piece of bacon off his plate. “Hey!”

“Mine now,” Derek says, crunching into it with a victorious smirk. His eyes widen. “…Is this _turkey_ bacon?”

“Just because we have werewolf metabolism doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be mindful of our diet-”

“This is _turkey bacon_.” Derek stares at Scott, mouth hanging open in betrayal. “I can’t believe you just made me eat _turkey_ bacon.”

“Technically, you stole it off my plate.”

Derek pouts and shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “You’re the worst, Scott McCall,” he says fervently. “These are still the best scrambled eggs I’ve ever eaten and I will kidnap you to make them for me in the future, but you’re the _worst_.”

Scott eats his turkey bacon with laugh.


	7. Thanksgiving

It almost feels like déjà vu as Scott carries Liam’s bag down to the car idling in front of Lycan Hall. Not quite, though, because instead of Allison walking beside him with her backpack, it’s Liam carrying Hayden’s bag, and Hayden carrying Mason on piggyback, and Brett carrying Mason’s bag along with his own in an ongoing endeavor to simultaneously one-up Liam and earn his approval as Mason’s best friend. (Scott has no idea how that’s working out for him.)

And rather than greeting a taxi cab driver, Scott finds himself shaking hands with Brett’s alpha. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Scott,” Satomi says. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Scott resists the urge to duck his head. “Good things, I hope. It’s been a real treat getting to know Brett these past few months.”

Satomi smiles, watching Brett hold the car door open for Hayden and Mason before slamming it in Liam’s face. “Oh, yes, Brett talks about you in all his emails. He says your Culture Expansion lectures are very informative.”

Scott beams, automatically rubbing the back of his neck before he remembers himself. “Thank you.”

“But actually, I meant Derek. The Hale boy.”

His hand drops. “Huh?” he blurts. “I mean…beg pardon?”

“I’ve known the Hale family for many years,” Satomi says. “Derek and I meet up for tea every month or so.” She smiles, patting Scott’s hand. “I can see why he admires you so much.”

Scott feels his cheeks heat. “Um,” he says. “I, uh.”

“And if Brett here ever steps out of line, let me know,” Satomi adds.

“ _Satomi_ ,” Brett whines from the backseat of the car. Liam is sitting in the passenger seat, and Scott can’t decide if that’s an honor or an insult.

Satomi finishes adding her contact information to Scott’s phone and hands it back. “Give my regards to Talia,” she says. “And Happy Thanksgiving!”

Scott waves as the car pulls away from the curb and disappears around the bend, then glances up at the dormitory with a sigh. It’s already late, only a few hours until Wednesday is officially over, and he doesn’t have to strain his ears to know that the dormitory is almost entirely empty. He goes back upstairs and heads for the dark common room, dropping onto the couch in an ungainly sprawl. “I thought you’d grown out of that whole brooding-in-the-dark thing,” he says.

“Never,” Derek says, clicking on the light ominously.

Scott laughs. “Dorm’s empty,” he says. “Looks like it’s just us left.”

“Mm-hm,” Derek says. He stretches lazily. “I guess some things never change.”

“I did my laundry earlier this time.”

“I didn’t.”

“Derek!” Scott rolls onto his side to more properly direct his faux-outrage, then shrugs and rolls the rest of the way off the couch. He grabs Derek’s laptop and marches out of the common room.

“Hey!”

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Scott says, nudging open the door to Derek’s room. It’s as immaculate as ever, but the laundry basket is piled high with more clothes than Scott has ever seen Derek wear. “So you need to do laundry now if you don’t want to pack your bags with wet clothes.”

He settles on Derek’s bed and opens a new browser window on his laptop. “You could use your own laptop, you know,” Derek says.

“Yeah, but mine’s all the way on the other side of the dorm. That’s too far,” Scott says. “And it’s not like you’ll be using it, because you’re gonna be busy doing laundry.”

“You’re not gonna help me?” Derek asks, lips pushing out into an overdramatic pout. “I helped you last year.”

“No, you just sat on a dryer and stared at me the whole time.”

“Moral support.” Derek pokes his shoulder. “C’mon. It’s creepy wandering around the dorm alone when no one else is around.”

Scott can’t argue that. Lycan is one of the smaller dorms, but there’s something unnerving about it when it’s empty. It’s the silence, Scott thinks. He shuts Derek’s laptop and sets it on the desk. “Okay. Gimme a sec.”

“Sure-” Derek begins, then pauses when Scott digs through his dresser. “…What are you doing.”

Scott tugs on a faded red sweatshirt, tucking his hands in the pocket as he spins around. “The basement’s cold,” he says reasonably.

“That’s my sweatshirt.”

“It looks better on me,” Scott says. He grabs the detergent from Derek’s closet. “Ready to go?”

The first two washing machines are already broken when they get to the basement. Derek opens the third door and jerks back, nose wrinkling at the smell of clothes left wet for a little too long. “Who forgets about their laundry during _break?_ ”

Scott shrugs and moves the clothes to a dryer while Derek loads the machine next to him. “I’m pretty sure these were still here when I did laundry last night.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Freshmen.”

“Could’ve been a sophomore.”

Derek shakes his head as he tosses a pair of sweatpants into the washing machine, then frowns and takes it back out. “Hey, how come your sweats are…” He shrugs and tosses it back into the washing machine. “Never mind.”

“You wanna wash this, too?” Scott asks, plucking at his sweatshirt.

“That one’s actually clean,” Derek says. He rolls his eyes a little. “Well, it _was_.”

Scott tugs up the neckline to smell it. “It doesn’t smell like me too much, yet,” he says. “It’s really not that cold in here. Sure you don’t wanna wash it?”

“Nah.” Derek shuts the washing machine door and swipes his ID card at the pay station. “Otherwise you’ll just end up shivering while you’re pretending that you’re not actually shivering, and that’s just sad.”

“I would not,” Scott protests, even as he tugs the sweatshirt cuffs over his wrists. Derek snorts at him, then sniffs at his own shirt and adds it to the washing machine before starting the load. “Oh, now you’re just showing off.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Derek says, sitting next to him on the dryer. “No, really, I just forgot that I spilled cinnamon on it earlier.”

Scott inches closer. Derek gives off heat like a _furnace_. It isn’t even fair. “What were you doing with cinnamon?” He brightens. “Were you making pre-Thanksgiving pie?”

“Something like that,” Derek says, laughing a little. “I figured I could bake the pies here this year, and then we wouldn’t have to leave so early. And we could keep some extras in the freezer, if you want.”

“I definitely want,” Scott says. “Is there a reason you’re trying to avoid quality time with your family?”

“No,” Derek says unconvincingly. Scott snorts. “It’s just going to be a little more crowded than usual, with Boyd and Cora, and Daphne’s cousins, and I think Laura said Charlie might be coming-”

“The dragon?” Scott asks.

“Yeah, that Charlie.”

“That’s cool. I’ve never met a dragon before.” Scott gives up pretending not to be cold and leans against Derek. “Sounds like a pretty full house.”

Derek shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Well, we can’t hide out in the woods the whole time, but-”

“‘We?’”

“Yeah, ‘we,’” Scott says. “I love your family, Derek, but I’m not the biggest fan of tons of people, either. But seriously, Derek, you can’t hide on the roof the whole weekend.”

“I wasn’t going to hide the _whole_ weekend.”

“Uh-huh. Come on, I know you better than that.” Derek doesn’t answer, and Scott looks up to see Derek gazing at him with a surprised sort of fondness. “What?”

“Nothing,” Derek says, shaking his head quickly.

“No, come on.” Scott elbows him lightly. “What is it?”

“Just…a year ago, we barely even knew each other,” Derek says. “I thought you hated me.”

“I never _hated_ you,” Scott says, but Derek’s words sink through him. A year ago, they’d been…Derek had been just the Scary-Hot RA, and Scott had thought he’d be spending his first college holiday all alone. Now, though… “It’s crazy how much can change in one year.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. He wraps an arm around Scott. “You can sleep if you want. I know you’ve been running around getting everyone off campus safely since Monday.”

“’m not even tired,” Scott protests, even as he breaks into a yawn at the mention of sleep.

Derek laughs, tilting Scott’s head onto his shoulder. “Go to sleep, Scott. I promise I won’t ditch you down here when the laundry’s done.”

Scott yawns again and lets his eyes slide shut. “Aw, you love me,” he mumbles teasingly.

Silence answers him for a long moment. Then, “Yeah,” Derek says, voice soft. “I really do.”

When he wakes some time later, it’s to find himself curled up on the dryer with his head pillowed on what feels like a pair of jeans, neatly folded and still faintly warm. He squints around the dimly-lit basement as a dryer rumbles to life, then blinks when something heavy lands next to him. A fluffy tail whacks against his side, then Derek curls around him. Scott winds his fingers through dark fur and lets himself fall back asleep.

 

He wakes slowly. Sun shines bright and cheery through the wide-open window, because Derek had never really managed to grasp the concept of closing his curtains with a room on the top floor. The pile of blankets shifts next to him, and Derek grumbles to himself before burrowing out of sight. Scott pokes the blankets, grinning when Derek swats half-heartedly at him, and grabs his sweatshirt from the desk chair before wandering down to the kitchen.

He has enough time to cook eggs, bacon, and try to remember who left a half-full carton of orange juice in the fridge – and whether or not they were the kind of person who drank from a glass or straight from the carton itself – before Derek finally stumbles into the kitchen. “Too early to brave the complexity of t-shirts?” Scott comments, glancing at Derek’s bare chest and mismatched socks. Then, “Hey, those are my sweatpants.”

Derek grabs the orange juice from Scott and takes a long drink. Well, that answers that question. “Looks better on me,” he mumbles. He sinks into a chair and drags the nearest plate towards him. “You made eggs?”

“Scrambled eggs, just the way you like them,” Scott says, digging into his own plate. “And real bacon this time, too.”

Derek stares down at his plate in awe. “I love you,” he says seriously, then shovels a truly disgusting amount of eggs into his mouth. Scott snorts.

 

“I don’t remember there being this many apples last year,” Scott says, hopping onto the counter to sit. He drops another pile of apple slices into the bowl next to him, then sighs at all of the fruit still waiting to be peeled.

“I didn’t actually mean to make an apple pie last year,” Derek says. “And there’s a lot more people this year.” He starts spooning pecan filling into a pie tin. “And I’m going to leave some mini pies in the freezer for Sunday.”

Scott beams, narrowly avoiding accidentally peeling his own finger in his excitement. “You’re the _best_.”

Derek smiles, as he rolls out another ball of dough. “We probably won’t be able to get away with this during winter break, though,” he says. “Can’t hide anything from Cora for that long. At least there won’t be as many people around.”

Scott pauses. “Actually, uh,” he says. A knot abruptly forms in his stomach. “I think I’m going to – I’m going home for Christmas.”

“Oh, cool,” Derek says, nodding. Then Scott’s words seem to sink in, and he turns to Scott with wide eyes. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Scott agrees, laughing a little. It’s been over a year since he’s gone back, to the stares and the whispers and that park by his house and… “It feels like it’s time,” he says, then, with more certainty, “I feel like I’m ready. I want to go back.”

“That’s good,” Derek says, and his smile looks so genuinely happy that Scott’s throat closes, just a little. “That’s really good, Scott.”

Scott nods. “And I’m flying back the last week of break, so we’ll have plenty of time to get things ready for the new semester.”

“Oh,” Derek says. He blinks, then quickly looks back down at the dough. “Yeah, of course.”

His voice sounds odd, somehow. Scott watches him knead the dough with renewed intensity, then takes a deep breath before plunging in. “You’re, I, um,” he blurts, and then mentally kicks himself.

Derek looks up, face scrunched in confusion and more than a little concern. “What?”

“You’re more than welcome to come, if – if that’s something you might be interested in,” Scott says. “It’s not much, my hometown – just another crappy small town where nothing interesting happens, really-”

“We live in Beacon Hills,” Derek points out, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile.

“Right, yeah, good point,” Scott says with a nervous laugh. “But, uh, it’d mean a lot to me if you came.”

He reaches slowly across the counter and places his hand over Derek’s. Derek inhales sharply, and his entire face breaks into a smile. “Scott-”

“Not that I’m trying to guilt you into going, or anything,” Scott says quickly. “It’s really last minute, and I’m sure you already have other plans-”

“Scott,” Derek says, beaming. He crowds into Scott’s space, pressing close against the counter. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

His eyes slip shut as Derek’s lips meet his, brushing soft and warm while his hands curl feather-light around Scott’s face. He pulls away slowly, chest heaving while Derek’s lips curl into a smile against his skin. “You love me,” Derek whispers.

“Yeah,” Scott says. He curls his hands around Derek and pulls him in tight. “I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say [hi](http://pocketlass.tumblr.com)!


End file.
